"There's not much doubt in any of our minds that no complete idea springs fully formed from our brow,
needing only a handshake and a signature on the contract to send it off into the world to make twenty-five billion dollars.
The germ of the idea grows slowly..." - Walt Kelly

Friday, March 19, 2010

For safekeeping

 
This is a poem I wrote on the train home from a reading in NYC one weekend. For some reason I decided it would be interesting to trace the outline of my ticket and then write a poem inside the box it made. This is what I came up with:
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Whittle it away,
stacked in piles of shavings
and carried to just the right spot;
barely visible. But:
it gleams like a July-girl’s smile
refracted to distortion
through rocking horse windows
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Playing on my iTunes at this very moment:
Paul Simon, You Can Call Me Al

3 comments:

  1. this is fantastic. i shared it on my blog. i credited/linked back to you. :]

    http://starlightandpoison.tumblr.com/post/459134271/whittle-it-away-stacked-in-piles-of-shavings

    ReplyDelete
  2. Cool rhythm on this thing here.

    ReplyDelete