I tried balancing a bowl of hot oatmeal on my lap and reading his poems in my tired
and
worn, green chair.

On the back cover of a collection, a reviewer wrote “Simic may end a poem with a
kiss
or a bludgeon.”
The reader will never know.

Blackjack Fresno Johnny sent me a big box of books of Simic’s poems. The books
were sent
in a cardboard box inside of another cardboard box, thoughtfully packed. The address
label
read:
To Tom Pitre, Poet.
It is my first affirmation as a poet.

I am always surprised when I read his work. Sometimes I think I have my finger on his
secrets, and then it slips away when I read another one. They are simple. He can
write
about an earthworm in the mud, and you will be enchanted.

Thomas Pitre blogs on 5th Coffee.  You can find his poetry on Poetry Soup.

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