Monday, September 30, 2019

Never forget the edges,

the margins.  Or the shadows.  This is true with cooking.  You taste what you don't see.  This is true with a poem -- you taste what has been editing away.  Fragrant, not fragile.

1 comment:

  1. how vivid the air that blocks the hills
    its altruism apparent
    I do not trap the feeling so much as marks
    strung across a net
    he wished for rain and said so
    many times that day
    as we crevassed the changing tide pools--
    indications about noon