Sunday, December 29, 2013

Symphonic: A Poem

Symphonic

So many words float together,
symphonic—
I see the world through them, hearing
all the different ways I can say “green”.

A new Buddhist once said,
“Oh, as a writer of fiction, you’re really lost.”

Maybe.

But then,
she’s never held a novel character’s hand,
cold-fingered after falling in a mountain creek,
or
ran her thumb over his broken nails,
and looked into eyes the same gray as ice,
depthless.

When such a one as this speaks,
I listen, I make notes,
because he will have words
that are beyond this little conception
of
me.


KBN 2013

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