Wednesday, January 25, 2012

Sprung rhythm. When poetry lets loose, can it be said that it has sprung itself?

No, not inception as much sporting variety. Not only is variety a condiment of life, it helps ensure the orchard continues to be robust, year after year.


In the kitchen there is the sprung pan, of course. Or am I imagining. Anyway, returning to tapas, which I am oh so happy to do, is a panoply of sprung dishes. Nothing short on panache to the littlest of plate or bowl filled so.

1 comment:

  1. Spring too

    save this for me: a piece of coral. dried out

    **

    counterweighted legends
    presuming options on a theme

    **
    She wavers imperceptibly

    **

    Don't touch the handrail, if only for today

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