Thursday, October 05, 2006

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

2 Comments:

Blogger valerie salerie said...

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?!

6:46 PM  
Blogger Erin said...

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)

3:11 PM  

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