Sunday, May 4, 2008

On being a poet: A Week of Writer's Almanac

Monday, the most elegant lyrics.
Tuesday, prose poetry
a grandmother’s garden gone to weed.
Wednesday, distastefully
dissonant to the ear.
Thursday, Friday and Saturday.
Nor is there rest on Sunday.
A panoply of poets,
we are fellow travelers
on a dark and lonely night.

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