(title taken from Haven YouTube video)
This is a place is a place,
But is not a place.
A place is not a place
When you are in the place
Elsewhere. I was homeless
When I showed up to this place
That is not a place. But being homeless
Was more of a place
Than this place ever was.
Let’s get one thing out of the way,
I am not a nature poet. I may not even be
A natural poet. I am most at home
In the homeless places. At least they never
Pretend to be something they’re not.
I have been out of place in this place
For years now. Picking 4 leaf clovers
Out of ashtrays. Wearing old places like badges
In the place where poetry is forbidden
And broken plates lie waiting
For the poet to come and say
This place is not a place
And nobody is forgiven.
But don’t take that out of place.
A homeless poet is only as wise
As the place she’s in.
Just beyond the place where North
& South road meet—That has never made sense
To me— I never took the road less traveled,
But always the one polluted with too many
Signs—East meets West, this place declares;
Why have one when you can choose
The best delusions of both?
A place that is North, South, East and West
Is only as wise as traveling the road
Where rocks fall at night and owls hoot
Knowing that a place is not a place
When it declares to contain all.
If I am only as wise as the poem I am in,
I may be in trouble. A place is not a poem,
When you get down to it. A poem can contain
East, West, North, South. But only by
Mocking itself, which this place never will.