Saturday, May 12, 2012

I wonder

can an image fall
like star-scatter                   shot
from its place
by some       mysterious force

without looping back to itself?

can rhyme break its edge off
and be sharp enough to cut?

can words float on the page
like   motes     of     dust
    yet    still   retain
a sense of narrative flow?

can people really tell
which poems stand like monuments

and which poems crumble like sand?
(full of holes
    for crabs
         to crawl through)

can a poem be written without words?

can one utterance reach
deep into a person's soul
where it clenches like a fist
                within him?

can poems move through difference
like a   skipping     stone?

can the page contain a song?
can the song contain an experience?

can poetry really ripple out
from this one unending line?

Christine Fojas
some questions...

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