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Board Administrator Username: mjm Post Number: 4674 Registered: 11-1998 |
Poem of the Week Standing beside the Rock Gary Blankenship a bowl with slightly less volume than a porcelain teacup and part of that taken up by stone minimal soil enough to hold roots and to barely feed firmly planted beside a tiny jade peasant copper wire to hold branches as if wind-swept by the sea on the backboard among her other toys through streaked windows glimpses of the clan free to grow unfettered firs reach for the sky * If I live to be one hundred years or even more, will I ever understand, how I came to this? Trussed, tied, bent to another’s will with nothing but kitsch doo-dads and silence for company. |
