pure fragment
sunken root
shake my sand!
bow to it,
spindles and fern
knuckles of pine
and grass leaves boil
pour over not to tip
when the world is yellow
(orange, i mean to say)
make sure you bite really hard
and feel the grit between
your teeth
the hourglass is broken
shake my sand!
bow to it,
spindles and fern
knuckles of pine
and grass leaves boil
pour over not to tip
when the world is yellow
(orange, i mean to say)
make sure you bite really hard
and feel the grit between
your teeth
the hourglass is broken
2 Comments:
questions to the friends at DPS:
is poetry (always) intentional?
is good poetry intentional?
can intentino not be found in poetry?
this poem is honestly something like vomit--i had to write something and i just did it. there is absolutely no theme or meaning in anything i wrote, at least not in any intention (hence the questions) it's like a stream-of-consciousness poem.
can i do that?!
that's the beauty of poetry, my friend...you can do whatever you want.
(and I must admit that I'm glad this poem had no intended meaning, because that means I'm not slow for not getting it)
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