Saturday, August 05, 2006


On a single line of DNA,
God tweaks a phrase,
a comma, perhaps two
in ten thousand years.

I wince when my poet friend
finds a ‘a sense of rush’ in what I write
‘not paying detailed/fastidious/focused attention’.

I resolve to revise glacially,
mindful even mountains of ice
slip quicker now,
leaving off centuries of their own revisions,
punctuating less, the valley stone.

There you have it.
My disclosure straddled
by two contrite metaphors.
I scrabble for an envelope,
to catch by 4 PM,
the last post of the day.

1 comment:

{Minion} said...

:) some good stuff on your blog :)