Hips don't lie so I'm won't either; I had to construct a word for the frig magnet poem for Monday. Why would you call a frig poem kit the 'Poet Version' and not have the word 'poem' in it? How's a post-modern bad-frig-poet supposed to get meta? So, yea: I MADE what I needed. I either have to rein in that tendency or buy some more kits.
Let's add a little punctuation just for the fun of it:
Yet a poem lives,
naked, vast, sacred, open:
This thing is wild work.
Since we're not lying tonight, hips or otherwise, I'll admit: Love that last line.
Bonne fête!, my French friends. For my English
readers reader, Happy Bastille Day! Although a French person would never say that, as I learned today by reading French Morning. By my blog header you know how I feel about La Belle France, so let's help celebrate, much as I did during my one day in Paris -- you know, when we had that meal of shame at the Louvre?
Vive la France!
Whoa. Makes the 'rockets red glare' seem downright pacifist.