this morning I sharpened my pencil
in expectation of words
little boats came instead
while antelope gathered
upon a white hill
to stare
cave drawings
from I don’t know where
I would rather have had words
this morning I sharpened my pencil
in expectation of words
little boats came instead
while antelope gathered
upon a white hill
to stare
cave drawings
from I don’t know where
I would rather have had words
The last line is a lie of course as I was after the image all along and nothing but the image. You honour me greatly Laurie by reading my book – poems that were written over a period of almost twenty years. I am so glad that you are enjoying it. I’m a bit behind on my reading – a terrible admission of solipsism – something poets, or would-be poets, in particular should always guard against. Thoroughly ashamed!
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