Poetry is all about timing, especially the delivery of. Is there such a thing as "proper time." What happens when a lover's duet written for dawn, is read in the evening?
Is this similar to eating pizza for breakfast. If so, I'm all for it. Have a discernible track record.
Train Rides (2)
ReplyDeleteOn the meadow
a thrust of heat holds the old house down
What loving could undo the promise, you ask?
Oh I've seen it happen, once too often--
a creepy boredom knocks the bird
off the bench
and some guileless crumbs survive--
A fighter digs into his sorry soup
and the trumpeter carries on
(Just get off at the next station
A lighter note is in the waiting room)