Wednesday, May 8, 2013

The market doesn't carry what you went there for. Does this dissapointment flow into the next poem you write?

Yes, if you don't love mixing up the unexpected. Yes, if you don't love substitutes. Yes, if you don't believe leftovers are the best food possible, and the refrigerator deserves such gems.

Last night, no mussels to be bought. The refrigerator (or when no one is listening -- icebox) contained string beans. Well, there you have it. This is the house of many pens; of much fruit.

Who says, string beans & sushi are perfectly matched?

Thus, disappointment kept at arms-length from the poem edited this morning.

1 comment:

  1. ( H. cont.)

    And into that picture, perhaps another
    equally altered by mist:
    the umbrella, full blown, out of her grasp
    and flying toward the boardwalk.

    Full bag of trinkets
    notebook with drawings torn out
    salty little nuts that needed cracking