or lack thereof. not in my life. my poetry. which apparently results in crappy poetry and lowercased blog entries. anyways, i'm offering up the following for diagnosis.
Market: Florence, Italy
A pig is speaking
our wishes.
It doesn’t matter
if you whispered it
one wish
or twenty
it remembers them,
sends them running
out of its lips
left to be collected
by streetsweepers at dawn.
skip to main |
skip to sidebar
words to write by
Language has to be beautiful in a way the world cannot be. (Hopler)
The world is clanking: noun, noun, noun. (Willis)
You think / I am speaking in riddles. But I am not, for // The world means only itself. (Warren)
The world is clanking: noun, noun, noun. (Willis)
You think / I am speaking in riddles. But I am not, for // The world means only itself. (Warren)
i like april
family likes blogs
i like you too
- aislin: the importance of being dyer
- alexis: cabbages and kings
- amanda mae: mgfj
- amanda: mere complexities
- anna: cymru am byth
- ashley: all the birds of this day
- brooke: endless summer
- club narwhal
- daniel: messy room, messy mind
- dave got a blog
- edgy: books are king
- eleka nahmen
- grover: journey to the east
- heather & royce: severson style
- jannifer, the life of
- jim/blog
- kjerstin: winterberry
- marie: feeling seasick
- melyngoch: one short sleep past
- mr. fob: the fobcave
- optimistic
- patricia auxier
- ro ro riot: celebration
- saule cogneur
- theric: thmazing thmusings
- tolkien boy: the broken arms
- zack: 1982 a.d.
blog archive
Search This Blog
Followers
a snail named patient: a story-blog for Abby
5 comments:
At first I assumed the pig was fat and for sale, of course. But it doesn't sound fat. It sounds lean, and independent. Not owned. Is it? Just a thought, but you might enjoy Momo by Michael Ende.
You are a ribbon woven into my wicker-work heart, Blue. All my love.
.
I don't like diagnosing poems -- I like reading them.
And I liked reading this one.
Pig, huh? Reading this poem made me feel like either I was missing something (Pig? Florence?)or that it is just a little weird. Either way, I rather liked it. That second stanza feels good to me and the streetsweepers are genius.
I read this days ago, and loved it. love it again. i feel a little self conscious leaving my unpoetic feedback on such a poetic blog with other poetic commentors, but i think the images are really fantastical, which totally works for me. It's so different from what I've read of yours before, but I really love it. can't wait for the first collection of sarah poems. and i like the pig. it goes with the fantastical thing. in a way that it wouldn't with another animal.
This is one neat poem.
Post a Comment