Saturday, July 23, 2016

Last line

Here's a photo of a last line of a poem that really bursts from the page.  Really.

Really not much different than the exuberance of a perfectly ripe cherry tomato encountering the mouth.

1 comment:

  1. Metrix, July 2016

    Weird dream the other night:

    I am taking a walk through a wooded area, on a small path. I am startled by a woman walking toward me, staring. As we pass on the path, I turn around and see her intensely watching me, a cat on her shoulder. She says "I want to be able to speak softly to you." She scares me. I reply "I can't." I back away, not wanting to turn my back to her. She eventually disappears. In the distance a large male figure with a bundle on his back is going into a cabin beyond where the woman was standing. Another woman rushes up to me, out of nowhere, asking if I want help.

    I think, this place is dangerous, I better not walk any farther into the woods.
    Dream over. I wake up relieved.