|
Post by Don Schaeffer on Aug 19, 2012 9:36:12 GMT -5
Six feet tall anchored with thin lines to the rain spouts and drains, hanging like a circular banner glowing in our security light centered by a dark wriggly thing big enough to see from the upstairs window. There's something about the moving legs of spiders that scares me, so precisely was it sorting out its threads.
But in the morning nothing but a ruin. The light runs swiftly through it, barely diffused and there is no monster.
|
|
|
Post by The Velvet Claw on May 28, 2013 5:51:44 GMT -5
So you tend to ramble a fair bit in your poetry when you first have an idea? well, that's perfectly normal for many of us. We seldom get it right the first time, I was telling my girl. An excellent exposition of how poems can sometimes come and go in passing.
|
|
|
Post by Don Schaeffer on Sept 4, 2013 15:12:15 GMT -5
Thanks Claw. Some people say I'm too terse.
|
|