Mine aren't in a honey crock, but a Mason jar. But they are just as mute and expectant.
Jar of Pens
by Robert Pinsky
Sometimes the sight of them
Huddled in their cylindrical formation
Repels me: humble, erect,
Mute and expectant in their
Rinsed-out honey crock: my quiver
Of detached stingers. (Or, a bouquet
Of lies and intentions unspent.)
Pilots, drones, workers—the Queen is
Cross. Upright lodge
Of the toilworthy—gathered
At attention as though they know
All the ink in the world couldn't
Cover the first syllable
Of a heart's confusion.
This fat fountain pen wishes
In its elastic heart
the rest of the poem is here.
There's also an audio link, if you'd like to hear Pinsky's voice.
Pinsky did an extended reading of his poems at the Folger Shakespeare Library on Tuesday, and as I said earlier this week, he claims we can find in any one thing----a jar of pens, a shirt, a Plexiglass lectern---a portal to the whole world. Jar of Pens is from a series of poems he wrote in which he had to take as his topic the first object he touched...and then the next object...and then the next...
It has made me aware, ever since, of the weight, history, and possibility of each thing in my life.
Poetry Friday is hosted today by Mary Ann at Great Kids Books.