I stew about the “rules” of poetry,
wondering if my pot of words
is sustenance
or merely palatable.
This whirl of letters
and punctuation,
metaphor and imagery;
a rolling boil of expression
that if tended
with a patient and loving hand
will simmer
to a fine consommé.
Enough?
Or would you care
for a second helping?
Tuesday, April 28
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