Sail On! On Being Asked For Explanations.

There are no maps to Wonderland…
At a reading in the late 1970s, Robert Frost was asked by an earnest young man to explain a line in his poem, “Birches.” His reply was perfect. How the hell should I know… Figure it out for yourself.
I know that I have written poems I don’t fully understand. Gasp! Does this mean that they are meaningless? Not at all. It means that poetry is a presentation of fictive imagination, whose meanings are not always apparent to even the author. The Muse speaks in strange tongues.
Asking the poet to explain won’t help. Scouring the poet’s life won’t suffice. Even sleeping with the poet is futile (although a perk for the poet).
It is the work of poets to write poems. It is the work of readers to read them. Bad readers are lazy readers. Good readers play an active role that requires effort, as co-creators, developing their own insights and interpretations, not demanding Cliff Notes.
Poetry and reading are like conjoined twins that can’t be separated without the risk of killing one or the other. The poem is a map with blank spaces where the dragons be. Readers must take the map, embark on the journey, willing to explore, brave the dragons, daring to fill in the gaps as they go.
Authorial explanations should never be expected or trusted. Beware the poet too eager to explain. Trust yourself. Make the journey.
A poem shouldn’t mean, but be.
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