Mar 2011
Part of the black magic
is broken.
Words
which flew free as starlings
are now tethered
to faces
and I can picture you writing,
redrafting,
chewing your pencils.
People;
just people.
is broken.
Words
which flew free as starlings
are now tethered
to faces
and I can picture you writing,
redrafting,
chewing your pencils.
People;
just people.
On the whole I like the new site, but I miss the anonymity and the freedom to let imagination reign where the originators of the poems are concerned. That said, I wasn't slow to stick my own ugly mug up...
