|
Post by Don Schaeffer on Jul 6, 2007 0:39:37 GMT -5
The knuckles of the Earth are especially raw. On detail days there are fluids to be sopped up, rough edges of the sidewalk to be mapped
because when you walk long sidewalks you need strategy. I feel the weight my body offers to nature pressing my feet.
There are rips in the thinning skin of my fingers as I open can and tub and box. There are needles and pins, and bits of steel that catch in the weave of my shirts.
|
|
|
Post by Dunstan Attard on Jul 7, 2007 11:43:15 GMT -5
your choice/mix of words is indeed a delight rendering one poem a holistic metaphor melding all senses into one deep cosmos made of recognizable stars...
|
|
|
Post by robertrwoods on Jul 7, 2007 12:24:26 GMT -5
You take such simple things, finding the grandeur in simple living. How deeply melancholy I feel reading this poem. Such detail mixed with such economic use of words. Lovely doesn't begin to describe it. Definitely an eye opener for me as a poet and human being.
|
|
|
Post by Don Schaeffer on Jul 7, 2007 15:57:18 GMT -5
thanks.. very kind words.
|
|
|
Post by Bobby Slais on Jul 22, 2007 19:44:36 GMT -5
There's a beautiful melody to your words and sounds here Don, and the meanings and content balance that nicely, great impact piece, enjoyed!
Smiles! Bobby
|
|
|
Post by Don Schaeffer on Jul 22, 2007 21:24:19 GMT -5
Thanks Bobby
|
|