flanguage

somebody asked me how come you publish poems on the net, especially little poems, lines strung along together, but they aren't published in the sense of final, finished, processed, done, these are the record of passing thoughts, language that has been flung to see where it falls, a working notebook in progress, always open to response and change and the process

Saturday, November 11, 2006

Testing Authority

The sun is a square

The moon consumed by and tears

The earth is now still

flanguage

Saturday, November 11, 2006

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