what's a poem?

today i actually slept in. i lolled around drinking hazelnut coffee and spent a good 2 hours on the phone with my mama. i talked with my new neighbor and welcomed her in to our strange little happy fold. i did a bit of painting as the light started to change and the afternoon arrived. i took an evening walk with my dog and let her off the leash to run and play and smell the smells. she gets stuck on sniffing pretty easily and it's cute. one of my favorite sights in life is watching her velvet ears bounce as she trots along. i don't know why- it's just so damn cute! i smile every time. and then back at home, i tucked a tired man in bed and kissed his forehead.

now, i'm thinking about poems and what they are and what they mean and how to build them and that all the rules are a bit lame and "relevant" to whom? it's a mysterious thing and a precious thing and i'm getting closer and closer to the point of not caring too much if the poems are any good or not, if they're "correct". i care if they fill whatever damn hole it is that i'm trying to fill. i care if they cushion the blow of the world and if they're able to rip off the old band-aid and get me moving forward again. i care that they are fearless and unapologetic and if they sing. and i do want to be good too... whatever that means. but not the kind of good that brings acceptance, the kind of good that makes a happy life. the kind of good that makes the old fears die... or at least make them mean something. the kind of good a person feels at the end of a hard day's work... glad to put down the shovel and come on home.