Tuesday, March 23, 2010

Partials

I don't think much about how poetry comes to me. It just shows up. I feel lucky if I have a pen handy. Nothing worse than getting the first line and not having anywhere to write it down so the rest can come too. Once in awhile, though, the first few lines come and then . . . nothing. It doesn't finish itself. Thought I would share a few partials that haven't formed themselves into anything (yet).

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Hope is like the ocean
wide and rolling
even when we cannot see

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I need either more pain or less
or someone to make me feel
like I felt with you
afire and gasping,
like new chemicals

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Maybe I can sweep it
into that pile of
romantic notions
left dusty on the floor

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