March 28, 2009


It’s not that I’m against it;
I believe I could grasp the stony silence
beyond the images that scream
from an unseen place.
I'm all for the mutation of words,
the transformation of meaning.
Perhaps you asked yourself
if the continuing imprecision
is aware of the making.
That's one of the things I like about the pieces;
the pretty pebbles, splintered sticks,
shards of colored glass and opalescent shells,
bits of string, beads, and shiny buttons
all lead to wild and unexpected places.


Paul said...

What a supercool poet you are. I got lost in here somewhere, "if the continuing imprecision
is aware of the making." But came out in the next lines in a wonderful place. That is perfect metaphysical poetry. I am a huge fan.

Agnes said...

Thanks, Paul. I don't think I've ever been called supercool before. Don't worry about getting lost in my poems. Happens to me all the time. Heh.