Sunday was spent looking out at the rain in a papier mache world. Trees and hills slicked on with a brush, a pond somewhere varnished, pulp of a world gone by now recreating something else -a day, a season, a mood.Why should a world be any different from a craft project?
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This late night walk after a tough, rough unending day at work. I am so, so exhausted. But this...sweet chutney of wind, lane littered wit...
2 comments:
Papier mache world, varnished pond, trees slicked with brush...??? Not just mixed metaphors, its downright confused metaphors. Sounds highly contrived and a chore to read.... Don't force poetry into prose. Simple prose makes the best read.
Thanks Brother/Sister. I hope she listens.
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