Wednesday, July 27, 2016


Ice.  Time.
And the opposite of melting? Rising.  And love is on the rise.

Where does the line of a poem melt?  Where does it rise?  The eye of a poem is the mouth.

1 comment:

  1. Metrix

    conversation from rhino fan koan via Reb in Blue Cliff record:

    Bring me the rhino fan
    It is broken
    I want it anyway