. . . instead, I will be writing for a bit.
I need some poetry.
And no, not the epic
with its brash hero and wicked monsters.
Not the love poem
with is sucra-loquacious
rhapsody over the splenda-or of love
(or the agony of the lack there-of).
No corrsetted sonnet.
No elegy rife with tears.
Nope.
I need poetry.
But some of the less obvious kind.
Don't bother with the rhythm.
Pay no attention to the rhyme.
A simple subject --
predicated on understanding well
the story held in that old tea cup
or of your footstep as it fell.
