AT LAST you are probably exclaiming in triumphant glee, at last a new Typewriter series poem! Your wish, my dear friends, is my command. Funny thing is, I have a few of these unread ones laying around here, so I figured it was time to get busy and post more of them. This one, is about beauty and how impossible it is to define it, to explain it, to illuminate it fully. This is my attempt, but as the poem says, what authority do I have? Who am I to speak of such things?

What is beauty to you? Let me know.

To define an undefinable,

to wrap it up in words,

they ask what beauty is

and I stumble over myself.

A red window on a wall

of white, I think, but this

feels pedestrian and

too slim. To fight

for love, no matter the cost,

perhaps, but this

feels cliche and

too obtuse.

That which is

without asking to be,

I decide,

that which gives

without having enough

to keep.

I will not speak it,

I’ve no authority to decide

such matters.

-Tyler Knott Gregson-

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