The Fling
Last night
I printed out
all of my poetry,
put it in a plastic bag,
and crawled out my bedroom window
to the roof.
There I stood beneath the full moon,
grabbed everything I could,
and flung 40 years of words to the sky.
Many white pages,
like plucked wings of a mythical bird,
flapped and fluttered to the ground,
the first complaint,
I imagine,
of the man who comes
tomorrow morning to mow the lawn.
More (click and scroll)
Comments
I love your poetry! I think you under-rate yourself---it is really not just the ordinary stuff...no, not at all. I have published a beautiful book of poetry for Vanya Franck. How about I create a book of all your "lost poetry" perhaps with Evelyne's paintings or mosaics...?
Posted by: Barbara Schacker ![[TypeKey Profile Page]](https://www.ideachampions.com/heart/nav-commenters.gif)
at April 8, 2012 06:55 PM
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