edit, edit, edit- that's the name of the game. always, endlessly... no such thing as a perfect poem, i'm told, but you still gotta do your best. i'm trying. and i will keep on trying. i've had a tremendous need for words lately. i'm sure you've noticed. :) and i'm not exactly sure what sparked it or if this is just the way i am and had somehow ignored it. whatever the case, i don't mind it, not one bit, and will roll on, pushing words together, happy in all this ink.
this is what happens when you're raised by a sociopath
stark
the uneven crack
sporadic
unintended.
a brutal white
diagonal. Her diamond
fractals crossing wide.
mathematical.
pristine.
perfect,
be perfect,
be strict
be stringent-
we're beyond all that now.
-
She's got her reasons.
They all have a number.
unsurpassed.
Her shards are assured.
angela simione, 2009
No comments:
Post a Comment