Thursday, April 26, 2012

Logorrhea. Can a very short poem suffer from logorrhea?

One sound too many is too many. One too many grains of salt, the dish gone woefully bad. Not to be confused with salty poetry, please.

1 comment:

  1. 3.

    Still later the oncoming mists tell
    of times gone by, mistakes made
    Assumptions girding the iron bed
    and a satin robe around them

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