The best poems

involve lists.

Like these two from the last Summer's issue of Jubilat

This is an excerpt from a poem called Entry Forbidden by Deborah Gulob which borrows from a manual of "Conditions for Mailing" put out by the U.S. Postal Service. One of my favorite lists was for Italy.

Italy
Artificial flowers.
Bells.
Bonnets.
Chloroform.
Hair.
Leeches.
Ribbons for typewriters.

I can't think of a more beautiful list. I suppose Italy has enough bells of its own.

Kate Hall's poem, Dream In Which I am Allowed 12 Items reminds me childhood lists and games in which we tried to bend the rules, but so much better...

like an overloaded purse let me keep
the tools I have saved
needle-nosed pliers, severed
bird wing, cat-gut sutures let them be
tools let tools count as one thing

This weekend is a good time for some list-making of my own.