The poet who was Thursday, Peter?
Liked the power-point (dis)connection....
Doug
On 23-Nov-05, at 9:19 PM, Peter Cudmore wrote:
> Here goes nothing:
>
> MacDiarmid in the park
>
> Something about the clifftop hair,
> fluid dynamics of boulders
> falling through treacle, shoulders be-
> hind his pelvis, not ahead of the
> boots on his feet,
> face mad red as he ran,
> compelled to meet some irresistible force
> come what may
>
> Years later, at walking pace-
> the clifftop gone, worn away, leaving
> straggling vestiges that speak
> like fingers jammed in a power point-
> our eyes meet, but do not connect.
> The bewilderment remains.
>
> *
>
> To tell the truth, I snapped this last Thursday, and it is already
> _this_
> Thursday
>
>
Douglas Barbour
11655 - 72 Avenue NW
Edmonton Ab T6G 0B9
(780) 436 3320
Shakespeare
Drag yr mouldy old bones
Up these stairs & tell me
What you died of,
I think
I’ve got it
Too.
Sharon Thesen
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