PICTURES
I wouldn't be able to say
anything right, even if I
tried. Along the coastal
walkway, the thatched huts
are all burning. My feet
are on fire, as well.
-
In my memory, another
place beckons : chipping
slate along some crumbling
hillside. Looking for fossils,
where - really - none would
have been. We are standing.
-
'Heretofore' : a word like that,
I was told, should never be
used in poetry - it being far
too 'prosaic.' Perhaps that's so,
but I like being the one to get
things started.
-
I invented the used of the word
'caveman,' even though it was
really but a symbol. No one ever
'lived' in caves really. Maybe
they once drew pictures, but
that alone was it.
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