Saturday, January 03, 2009

gertrude buttons alice
palpable alphabet
I am language to my finger tips
let the nouns speak for themselves
substance is a cushion
sudden slice changes the plate
the wisdom of necessary distances
bound sequiturs swerve words
rounding corners of sense
rhythmically propelling
wriggly boxed-in logics
the quotidian waltz

(3.i.09)

1 comment:

Unknown said...

wow... as one poet to another, I'd like to say I wish I had written that.

April Fool?