these lines are great
beak seeks, strikes, spears and wrestles
a tussle of worm
but the world 'free' grates. i don't think the worm would see it that way
I love the link to the tussle of words
wrestling the little buggers down onto paper - don't suppose they see
themselves as being 'freed' either
Terri )O(
-----Original Message-----
From: The Pennine Poetry Works [mailto:[log in to unmask]]On
Behalf Of arthur seeley
Sent: 25 July 2002 17:33
To: [log in to unmask]
Subject: New sub: Blue Room 7-30am
Blue Room 7-30am
Books are illuminated
by slants of early sunlight
where dust motes spin
like stars in the vast beam of chaos.
Only sort papers on the polished table
and constellations collide.
A blackbird on the lawn
listens to the earth turning,
beak seeks, strikes, spears and wrestles
a tussle of worm free.
The perfume of hyacinths pervade.
Adjusting my glasses to read
the morning’s words
my eyes flicker back and forth,
fingers dart and stab at keys.
I sigh distance and decades away
and galaxies gyre.
A paper, an unfinished ordering of words,
sense channering away inside,
is tossed upon the pile
and universes upheave.
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