Wednesday, November 3, 2010

When you find unexpected moments to work on a poem are these stolen or freed?

Liberated verse or purloined stanzas? Does it matter. To the page? To the screen?


About food. On the spur of the moment whipping up a brown rice salad (because the rice is left-over). How does the pomegranate feel about having its seeds liberated in a moment of stolen time?

1 comment:

  1. Debunked

    the overtime of a stoic set up in back
    ( sawdust in the tavern )
    and the tray goes wiggling down
    the line

    dang the cutting down of trees
    touching each other
    in the unseasonal
    heat

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