Have you ever read a book or watched a movie  or tried a new restaurant that friends raved about and said you would just love? And you just didn’t?
I attended a poetry lecture a while back. It was by a writer I like and he was using poems by one of my all time favorite poets to illustrate the points he was making. A formula for awesomeness–right? Ack. Gag. Phew. I finally decided that the lecturer was secretly mocking his audience, feeding them outrageous junk just to see if they would swallow it. They did.
But guess what? If you don’t like something that lots of other people do, that’s okay. I thought The English Patient was a terrible movie. I simply could not finish The Story of Edgar Sawtelle. I’m not saying they were bad. I’m saying they weren’t to my taste. I don’t like bananas, either. And if you don’t like apples, I promise I won’t try and convince you to eat them.
Listening to the precise dissection
of poems, disassembled so that
we can withdraw so much more
than is really here, enough
to feed this throng not content
with mere loaves and fishes,
I look out a window and see
a pine snapped by the weight
of winter snow.