Metaphor  /11

 

The voice of the river

names itself,

then turns another bend

 

toward closing stillness; ocean's

pine box where noise becomes

music and sound becomes

the dryness of loose leaves

seeking a lee.

 

I felt myself flow then: the

tumble in a kind of dream

and reached toward the pool

quiet grave

  passing out of reach


like a stick turning on the river

 past out-stretched arms.

 

 The river is a metaphor

but so is the grave.

 

11.




Comments

  1. Hello fellow Poets: When I started this project I thought I'd take advantage of the comments to reach out to you and give some context (to those who want context?). The idea is to try a blog as a way to p publish ?? a poetry book. After I finish the last page of this project I hope to type up my thoughts and share them with the "Coffee House Poets of Yakima", possibly at Larson Gallery. The summer workshops might be a good venue or whatever works.

    It seems to me that all social media offers some opportunity to share poetry books, some better than others for individual poets. I like Blogspot because those who read me or comment on my poems aren't going to get the Face Book type outreach which seems a bit phony and contrived. If you read a poem of mine you aren't going to get any notices, reminders, or follow up. Just like with a book, read me or don't, it's up to you. I am hoping that the serial release of the progressing pages is more like reading a book and the blog is just the place you put the book instead of on your book shelf. This way wherever you are, you can access my blog and read one poem and then go on about your business. I hope this format works. Let me know what you think. Will I give you a a gift for reading this? Probably not.

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