Poem #1
One image that keeps rising
in my poetic life,
an inspiration,
is the porch swing at home.
It is the big fat koi in the pond of my imagination.
I continue to roll over the image in my poetry.
That is part of what a poetic life is, a recursion into the glub-glub-glub-speak of my fish unconscious.
And it is also the realization that this game
is not just worth
the candle,
it is the candle.
Poem #2
Fishing
in my remembrance
I realize
this anchor
is way too big.
I tug on it
so I can fish
the next spot.
It won’t let loose.
I can’t pull it up.
Will I be held here forever,
this memory’s
steely grapples
stuck fast
to the chassis
of some ancient
Olds 88
so many fathoms deep?
Stay tuned.
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I am now curious about themes and visual metaphors that recur in the poems one writes. Mine is music, no doubt. Meanwhile, I am toggling (swinging?) from here to your Sub sharing, where the poem here was prose there, and another poem sprung from the swing. And now I arrive back here.
Kevin
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Echoes, yes? Sometimes I redundify my own self as part of being in the poetic life. I am just so grateful to have someone so spirited following my trail blazes as you. I am sorry not to have been as quick or as thorough in responding.