Friday, February 11, 2011
Praise for What Floats to the Surface
I don't care that your poem was published in Huckleberry Pie Review, or that you've won that prestigious award that turns every other writer's eyes into thumbtacks. I don't care that you live with your four cats and husband on an island. It doesn't matter that someone once described your writing as "the deft hand of minimalism." What matters is that you wrote a phrase in a poem that still floats to the surface of my memory as I press my foot into the ground of my backyard to check for 60 foot sinkholes. I don't own any of this land, this bland madness of snows.
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1 comment:
I hadn't thought about it, but there are different lines of poems that "float to the surface" for me on certain occasions -- and I am not a connoisseur of poetry by any means. What is about poetry that causes this phenomenon?
(thanks for adding me on Facebook -- it's nice to know when you've posted something new.)
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