Friday, August 10, 2012

Donut holes. Is it their sugar that remains me of some poems?

I can admire a well-written, lyrical personal narrative; although I try to find its impersonal core. Usually with slim success. Too much sugar does not inspire me. A line here or there, yes. The same with sentiment. I'm looking for the actual hole in the donut, which doesn't sell and, as they say, is illusive.

1 comment:

  1. Mining Towns p. 18-

    Demoralizing the divide they crossed
    in plenty of time--the wraith with
    her wanting invisible, the stolid
    gentleman who knew the way,
    a lady of many disciplines,
    and her puppy warm to the touch.

    She exclaims Aha as if it mattered
    on and on

    sugar remains on the tray
    reminds her of a promise