On being told my poetry was found in a broken photo-copier

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Malcolm read this poem on the first night of a conference I am attending.  His delivery of the poetry captured my imagination.

by Malcolm Guite

My poetry is jamming your machine

It broke the photo-copier, I’m to blame,

With pictures copied from a world unseen.

 

My poem is in the works–I’m on the scene

We free my verse, and I confess my shame,

My poetry is jamming your machine.

 

Though you berate me with what might have been,

You stop to read the poem, just the same,

And pictures, copied from a world unseen,

 

Subvert the icons on your mental screen

And open windows with a whispered name;

My poetry is jamming your machine.

 

For chosen words can change the things they mean

And set the once-familiar world aflame

With pictures copied from a world unseen

 

The mental props give way, on which you lean

They world you see will never be the same,

My poetry is jamming your machine

With pictures copied from a world unseen

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