Poetry is the art of creating imaginary gardens with real toads,
I don't know who said that
but I like it
It conjures up images of a watercolor garden
fantastical flowers made of silk
every leaf and petal
meticulously beaded with dew
and there in the center
on the velvet grass
is a giant spotted toad
glistening with slime
squat and lumpy
flesh and blood
surrounded by the lifeless
imitation of a garden
2 comments:
oh, i like this! a lot! good imagery here...
thank you. thank you very much.
Post a Comment