an old man looking at his face in a mirror recalls looking in a mirror in high school and asking what he will look like when oldnow wondering how did that young face lookafter the rivers valleys whetstone of daystwisting path now seems a sublime geodesic
Posts Tagged → poetry
forms of life
HERE I am, an old man in a dry month, Being read to by a boy, waiting for rain. Introduced to Prufrock in HS, the particular cymatics of that frequency got ossified into my scafolding early on, becoming something comforting and resonant in my assumption of the way things should be, what poetry should feel… Continue reading
You must be logged in to post a comment.