Friday, August 13, 2010

Friday 13th. Auspicious. Is poetry inherently suspicious?

Perhaps, need for certain pen/particular journal. Time of day. Circumstance. Confluence of sky/stars. Geography: being home. Away.



How do you judge fruit without a taste? What is ripe without the mouth?

1 comment:

  1. no luck like the lover's
    who jumps into a peach pie like a slave

    has a plum ever been the same
    since left cold by one
    and taken by the other?

    thirteen crusts that winter
    we never did see sun

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