Wednesday, August 7, 2013

How does a farmer's market shape the next poem you write?

It is the time of figs -- brown & green.  Pump.  Yummy,  Eaten from hand.   Or split & roasted. 

Figs offer the poem a delicious sense of nakedness and simplicity.  Ah, the shape of a fig -- bring that into the poem. 

1 comment:

  1. H/c

    Walking the newly wet streets he recalled a time
    when he lamented the state of decadence in the young
    And yet now he wished for the influence of youth
    tasting of ripeness, ignorant of form, blasting tradition