The full moon in April, a week or so ago now, is sometimes called the Pink Moon. Here’s a riff on pink, a list poem of sorts, to finish out National Poetry Month.
Poetry + fiction + photos + other thoughts
The full moon in April, a week or so ago now, is sometimes called the Pink Moon. Here’s a riff on pink, a list poem of sorts, to finish out National Poetry Month.
A long line poem allows a certain amount of weaving among subject matter, more so than a more tightly delineated poem.
Today’s poem juxtaposes a tiger and a jungle
river.
Sometimes you think back on a pivotal moment when, regardless of age or circumstance, you had some epiphany about the world. In this case I learned something about how the world viewed art, and about the price of compromising —or not — the truth.
I had no idea I’d be publishing so many ars poetica this month, but here’s another one.