[“The poet names all things, not saying what is there, but creating them by saying their names.” – Heidegger]
We never knew, until the poet stood up and read his poems to us, that there were so many things in the world. Some of us preferred a simpler time, when there were only one thousand thirty-seven things, and we had one thousand thirty-seven words, one word for each thing.
It all seemed so simple then, so fitting. At first, we put up with the poet’s inventions – just a few more dozen things; it seemed harmless enough. But he went on inventing things. And on and on.
Until we stopped him. The last thing he named was “knife,” as knives appeared in our hands and we used them. <END>
Buy it at amazon.com/author/terencekuch: For Anacreon, 30 poems of love and life from the ancient Greek poet (originally published as a chapbook by Silkworms Ink).