I'm nobody too!

Part I
Today I have a tasty morsel of a poem that I found by Emily Dickinson, which I particularly love because sometimes I feel very discouraged at my own nothingness, but to hear from Dickinson herself that she, and me and we are nothing was a great relief. What is all of this chasing after somethingness about anyway? What makes the contribution of a 19th century recluse/poet more or less then my own? Maybe nothing.

I'm nobody! Who are you?
Are you nobody, too?
Then there's a pair of us - don't tell!
They'd banish us, you know.

How dreary to be somebody!
How public, like a frog
To tell your name the livelong day
To an admiring bog!

Part II - Poetry, for my feet!
I really like shoes. They are fantastic little pieces of art, which got me to thinking about poetry and art. I think that poetry is so much more than words on a page. Words themselves are nothing but a medium to get across the true purpose of poetry which is, for me, a process of grasping the disappearing thread or as another poet said "sing[ing] a song for which we haven't quite found the words." Poetry, then, is not bound to the letters and spaces, it is a lifestyle, an aesthetic, a way of looking at things, which makes almost anything poetry. Even shoes, and especially these ones. They are made by the brand aptly named "Poetic Licence"