eyes through glasses. Now, I'm thinking slots in a spoon. Pasta water. I'm thinking how petite poems are not bows as much as petals. I'm thinking that a favorite ceramic plate can curve with the best of light. Yup. I'm thinking.
This winter as all others A tangy bite of something not there-- the leaves all over the streets and our ancestors haunt the Pontiacs left to rust in towns long gone
not taking
ReplyDeleteme
out?
testing the intransient light
ReplyDeleteCompositions for CT music
ReplyDeleteThis winter as all others
A tangy bite of something not there--
the leaves all over the streets
and our ancestors haunt the Pontiacs
left to rust in towns long gone