... a poem that does not tell a story with no beginning middle or end in any order although it's composed of a hundred words or so no doubt each with its own luminescent meaning and perhaps helping to conjure a world close enough to our own to be mistaken for a world that is the same except different from all the others known secretly by us all in the quiet moments of our lives when we are reading or gazing out the window at the rain and wondering if this is all there is and then sitting down to write ...

28 February 2003   15:29 hours
self portrait { } self portrait