Thursday, July 19, 2007


sometimes i walk over to the bookcase and just grab a book of poetry, any book at all. and then just let a page fall open and read whatever it is that lays in front of me. so that i'm not finding a poem...a poem is finding me.

susan griffith, from unremembered country


Learning to
draw tenderness, the
sky is full of
snow for her,
and she knows the
road curves around
her and the chill
of the air has no
fear, and she
sees her sorrow
gleaming in the
hardening river, she is
learning to take
tenderness from the

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