Just lovely! Kinda sideways, but it reminded me of my old Buick that I inherited when my grandfather passed away. No gloves, but little remnants of his pipe tobacco everywhere. Completely different sentiment, I know, but the poem still too me there while it was also bringing me along with the poet. I love it when reading poetry is like that!
I stumbled on the same line. For me, it's because it wasn't the same voice as what I'd perceived up to that point.
Gorgeous poem, though.
I am loving this activity for getting me to articulate why the poems that stick with me do stick with me, but I'm not experiencing any surprises in my personal preferences...yet.
Oh, I love this poem. Thank you for introducing me to it, and for your personal perspective. I relate to your under- or over-reacting. And to the poet's depiction of the latter.
Sometimes I feel like sending my poems out is a bit like throwing spaghetti on the wall.
You don't really know if the noodles are ready until the stick. And sometimes you have to throw a lot of noodles to get just one to stick.
Other times, it feels like trying to nail jello to the wall. Just *not* going to happen.
I have an annoying tendency to want to self-publish (on my blog or something) the poems no one else wants.
But I have a feeling there's a reason no one else wants them.
Or maybe they were just not meant to be a poem, maybe they were meant to be a story.
Or maybe they are waiting for the right words or experiences to catch up to them.
Or maybe just the right editor.
In other news - I'm reading strange stuff these days. 100 Sideways Miles. Afterworlds.
Trying to decide if I want to do Nano.
I think I am. Maybe. Why not add a third half finished unedited novel to my collection?
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