Tuesday, June 29, 2010

Can a poem be devoid of story?

Narrative aside, sound is the universal story.

Which sounds of a meal does the mouth treasure? Oh! the stories behind those meals.

1 comment:

  1. on the campus of the hilltops
    the hefty grinder beats the sand
    and all the accomplished children
    have gone off to the sea
    I wish I were there with them
    spinning in the waves
    'Would make me think of early days
    with blankets warm and thin
    When all the folks who travelled
    had ice cream on their cheeks
    And no one knew our secrets yet
    As common as they were
    It's days like this I like to drive
    To the farthest point
    of the farthest town I know
    And hope I've left my pinafore
    on a rock no one can throw