All the poetry world today seems to be little factions divided into groups, each group a network of people who work together to be a part of something bigger and better in the poetry world. Members tend to be belongers, and nestle themselves on telephone wires between telephone poles, rustling their feathers, being cozy, praising the weather.
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2 comments:
That last line is a great poem on its own. I love the end, I can see the last line "Praising the weather."
Thomas, you got that one perfectly correct. And Jeannine is right about the last line and the poem thing. Dropping by to say hello--got your link up at my blog and thank you for the link to mine--best, Kay Day
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