Poems from Andrew_Rymill
speak your
spells
& the sounds
make letters
& letters
make words
with the symbols
& clinck of cymbals
& words create...
the snake
was coiled
in the grass
& i
without shoes
leaving
the possiblity
of barefoot
and bitten
with
the most
bitter painfull...
yesterday
is an
empty shell
waiting
discarded
under
the fawcet
that
causes
the garden hose
to flow.
It's hard to know exactly why Some words are wild and continue beyond their speaking. In the poet's life like ghosts they recur. they...