If at first, you draft A poem, To start, you say: A yellow couch Listens to John Cage. Next, leave it With the paint cans In the cellar. In a year, or two, Go looking for it. Without reading it, Turn it over, Start something new, Like: You found me In the birdbath, The rainwater Is shirtless. That will never do. It’s best to be desperate: The universe Was swallowed By a few words. Long shadows Go to great lengths In doorways. For the better part of a decade Put it with the dry Beans in the back of The cupboard: The night arrives first A pink ribbon Of steel, A headache of honey and blood. Just abruptly end and hope no one Notices: Writing a poem Is like finishing a knot, Or cutting a hole in a net Before collecting butterflies.
Ok, so this is my new favourite naive haircut!
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Awesome. Thank you Nick!
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Fantastic!
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you’re back to your best, Bob: enigmatic, elliptical and entertaining 🙂
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Thanks John. I’m glad you think so. Spring has been good for me.
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I love this. It makes me smile and nod but also the images are powerful and real and true as shadows. Just magnificent.
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Thank you! I’m very happy you think so.
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Really liked the final couplet. Could really relate to that.
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Thank you! I’m glad you liked it.
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I love this so much I can’t even tell you. Every line, every line. Long shadows go to great lengths…pink ribbon of steel…all of it, I savour ❤
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Thank you Sunra. I’m really happy you like it. Thanks!!!!
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Nice poem. Keep it up.
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Thank you!
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