life is not forced... .. .a distillation of sorrow and yet .....life was the greatest joy it's own realm ...encased but not breached.... the joy ...had it's own integrity not touched by tragedy.
that joy, the measure and source...spring. ....I remember sitting in rain and blustering wind... abiding.... and yoked... to life this comic tradegy...within.
napowrimo2015 prompt : create an erasure poem create a poem by photocopy a page of writing and then erasing portions of it ... this format does not support that function....so I have written what remained on the page at the end of the exercise... the piece of writing I used was page 99 of "Enon" by Paul Harding Random House 2013.