reading
selected
poetry in
holiday postal
traffic
a quick glance
from this marvelous
bit of personification
reveals
an old man rifled by
Lou Gehrig’s
disease
his tender
hands clutching
a pile
of Christmas correspondence
he looses hold
and the letters
sprinkle down
like a brief
holiday snow
1 comment:
I like this one a lot. I like that it starts one place and moves to this quiet moment. I feel like it isn't striving for something it's not. The words don't ring too loudly as poetry.
I do wonder at the line lengths though. I feel like they are cut arbitrarily at times. I wonder if longer line lengths would serve to make more complex meanings.
Good stuff. I'll keep going through your other poems. We need to trade via email. You should send me three poems you're working on or you want looked at.
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