Postcard
Mostly Angels now-a-days
Friday, May 10, 2002
Most of us can mulch and most of us can muse, but only a genuine poet can forge that lightning connection between such things over and over again.
Andy Solomon
Everything Can Be Fixed
I Heard Peter Meinke read a sonnet
About Pissaro. I listened from behind the caterer's screen.
Thick, his voice carried past the chocolate.
"Live life more boldly," he wanted them to scream.
Thick painting impressionists as a class.
until the house filled with the drunkards dream:
"Everything can be fixed," and this at last
He said, "I Will always be six years old,
Holding out my stick like arms to Mom."
Most of us can mulch and most of us can muse, but only a genuine poet can forge that lightning connection between such things over and over again.
Andy Solomon
Everything Can Be Fixed
I Heard Peter Meinke read a sonnet
About Pissaro. I listened from behind the caterer's screen.
Thick, his voice carried past the chocolate.
"Live life more boldly," he wanted them to scream.
Thick painting impressionists as a class.
until the house filled with the drunkards dream:
"Everything can be fixed," and this at last
He said, "I Will always be six years old,
Holding out my stick like arms to Mom."
