Saturday, March 3, 2012

Convention. Does each poem hold itself to a convention?

Does the poem create a convention in the same way as a poet might hold herself to an intention? Is every convention situational to the gestures on the page (or screen)?


Cooking is rife with conventions and intentions. And that, folks, is why poetry and cooking intersect so willingly. Why it's not pleasurable to eat and run; it is so to eat and write.

1 comment:

  1. Liken the tree to its own lifespan
    a shaky thing, a tree taken down
    In my garden, for just a few whacks,
    the lemon tree turned into firewood
    unseasoned and unloved, and a large
    snake living in the cactus lives on.
    That's the great and awful mulch
    we live in...one porch full of sun,
    the one next door half in shade.
    Hiya neighbor I shout to the old guy--
    he's on the phone, doesn't hear me.

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