Zen and the Art of Mashed Potato
It is sunset in his head and another day
falls off the fork he lifts to his mouth.
Could take another stab at it, he mulls,
whorling, doodling, patterns on a plate.
(which above came to mind as I woke +at dawn+ this morning. Odd how
the mind ...)
--
David Bircumshaw
Website and A Chide's Alphabet http://homepage.ntlworld.com/david.bircumshaw/
The Animal Subsides http://www.arrowheadpress.co.uk/books/animal.html
Leicester Poetry Society: http://www.poetryleicester.co.uk
|