Thursday, March 11, 2010

What inspires the question in a poem?

From the get go, assume every poem imbeds a question.
From which limb, which organ of the poet did the question spring?
A question (explicit or implicit) is sufficient. The answer is the umbrella you misplaced.

Which foods feed question-making? A split dish with a friend. Two glasses. Wine.

1 comment:

  1. Meta Love Part V

    Along the gated Boulevard
    the scoundrels bide their time
    No rainy days no empty pockets
    Distract them from their shrine
    Where do they go Why do they stay
    It's never very clear
    But often you can hear them say

    I wish I had done something else
    Is there another way?