Thank you for your kind assistance
in revising my poem, “The Bird Feeder,”
in which I sought to weave, with the grace of swans,
a narrative of how I discovered the true meaning of life.
Thank you for your gentle suggestions for removing
excess commas to improve flow and for your wise
advice on enjamb
ment (though opinion seemed to be divided
on this). Your not-so-subtle hints that the poem
might require major surgery, that many of the original
twenty-four lines were too literal, too obscure,
too preachy, too concrete, too abstract, too much,
too too—were a little harsh. I know you were joking
when you suggested that my poem might be better
as a short story, but to attack the poem’s heart,
blood dripping from your teeth, seemed
excessively brutal. I would have appreciated
a copy of the email changing the Wednesday night
poetry group to the Tuesday night poetry group;
nevertheless, I thank you for your input,
all of which I have incorporated into the finished
poem, which I now submit for your review:
Empty bird feeder
hangs useless and abandoned,
stock market plummets.
first appeared in Ibbetson Street
Richard Allen Taylor, Poet 