Sunday, October 17, 2010

Can a poem be created purely from imagination?

First, how does the purely imagined look? Sound? Is inspiration singular?




Poetry is a blood relative of meal-making. Can’t you trace an elder’s hand in the dishes before you?
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1 comment:

  1. SusanOctober 18, 2010 at 9:39 AM

    PORRIDGE

    before she slipped
    on the wet pathway
    she fixed them
    a big breakfast

    they ran to the bus
    with warm little bellies
    while the ol' doc took his ride

    it was winter again
    and the snow so young
    hid the ice again

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