Off Line
What
happens when the postman
and
inspiration go on holiday?
For one
thing you save a stamp.
Your
philatelistic self
tries to
help, but you gave up
collecting
some years past.
If there
were rain, you could count
the drops,
transliterate their rhythms
into beats,
into iambs or dithyrambs
no one
else understands.
That’s
what makes a good poem,
someone
says. I know what Hugo
would
say, but I’m too much
a
gentleman to say it here.
—Donnell
Hunter
28
February 2012
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