I Don’t Believe the Doctrine that Readers, not the Authors, Finish a Book
Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem
Occasionally another reader made
Red marks inside the margins by some lines
Of poetry as if an ambuscade
Of thought attacked the reader with designs
On heart or brain. The marks call me to pay
Attention to some Oriental thought
Or image, maybe what some critics say
About them—like the red marks might have caught
A telling point. Not once, though, have they shown
Me something interesting. This other mind
Is from some distant cosmos. I disown
Them, wishing margins could be blank, unlined.
This alien who made these marks throughout
Has left these blottings that I can’t cross out.
~ Phillip Whidden