I ask them to take a poemand hold it up to the lightlike a color slide or press an ear against its hive.
I say drop a mouse into a poemand watch him probe his way out,or walk inside the poem's roomand feel the walls for a light switch.
I want them to waterskiacross the surface of a poemwaving at the author's name on the shore.
But all they want to dois tie the poem to a chair with ropeand torture a confession out of it.
They begin beating it with a hoseto find out what it really means.
