Sunday, January 22, 2012

Acatalectic. At the end what saves poetry from being defective?

Broken bits of syllables catch the light from which the whole, expectedly hums.



A bit of grated cheese transforms broken bits of pasta. Splurge, add fresh basil. The proper weight of word and meal. A good hum, also.
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  1. SusanJanuary 25, 2012 at 1:09 PM

    galaxy of the forbidden pulse
    just out of reach , out of mind
    bending down and picking up
    formations, fortunes, fiddlesticks

    what does the wandering element have
    to do with glaciers, abandoned shores?

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