Wednesday, August 7, 2013

What question does a non-green salad pose to poetry?

The question it poses to itself. 

What precisely is a non-green salad? 
Precisely, what is poetry? 
Perhaps, non-green salads and poetry are sisters after all -- existentially speaking.

1 comment:

  1. H/c

    What he could not know was in another city
    the flower cart had sprung a leak
    so the owner had to sideline her subterfuge
    The message she sent the the merchant lost in transit

    Of course he trusted all would work out eventually
    although the delay began to weigh on his mind
    He decided to find a companion for the evening
    and put aside his troubles for a while