The Vault

The Vault

My Poulin anthology has

seen better days

pages ripped away

like hearts with weak binding

stuffed between earlier leaves

still holding onto their youth

the young caring for the old

determined to keep the book

surviving---it's little world

shadowing the big one---

the real one---

my autographed picture of 

Gwendolyn Brooks hanging on

barely

but her eyes pierce 

more than ever with that Pulitzer gaze

makes me wonder if these imagined poems

belie younger versions

of old poets still trying to matter

more than just being

numbers that remind  them

of the draft lottery

being called peaceniks

and beatniks

and do-nothingniks

crying aloud with protest

syllables

Some of the younger poets in

the anthology respect the aged analysts

of the time---

But when they write...they weren't there--- a

generation removed

the decapitated bards

pretend poetry with a purpose

want to be needed

want their voices to resonate

be preserved---

want to be old voices

in the next Poulin---

want all rights reserved

and when they tear away

from the Mother binding

to be secured within the 

pages of the next generation poets

who grace the pages

as significant sentinels

           of the written word.

2/13/25

Reviews

[Red Brick Keshner]

Ooh, this makes me wonder and consider where my spot is in the spectrum 🙏🏻

[Soren]

This poem speaks to all that write poetry. We all have those we look up to as sentinels and mentors. I look back on younger poems as just that but then I read others and have noticed that despite the polish the true poet to me is the one that opens themself up to the process of spilling emotions and raising those same feelings in others. I recently read the poem of a nine year old girl that touched me to the core. This poem speaks so well to the internal process. Loved it Jacob you always have a way of wording your poems to make them special.