Saturday, August 7, 2010

What keeps poetry being poetry?

Is it the glue of voice? Symbol? Habit? Tangible mechanism or the invisible?




The meal remembered is more than food.
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1 comment:

  1. sgang123August 9, 2010 at 12:54 PM

    Road Trip

    Is there nothing I can give you,
    a plum for your trip?

    "I have scruples," she mentions
    on the way out.

    Begone the tyrant in us,
    as vigilant as sand.

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