Thursday, September 22, 2011

Inconvenience. Is poetry ever an inconvenience?

Ask a constellation.


What's inconvenient about food? Too far to the market? Not enough -- yes, that surely.
Too much, that, too, painfully.

Balance & ripe. Seesaw & stars.
Posted by at
Labels: ,

1 comment:

  1. SusanOctober 3, 2011 at 3:21 PM

    no doubt that a report on saturnalia stumps
    the girl hiding in the sycamores

    and doubting her own handwritten crib
    notes shouts to the whirling phalanx
    "'round and 'round the sun we go"

    what a beleagured fraternity of gumshoes
    splayed there on home plate

    ReplyDelete

Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom)