Metaphor takes me to water and the long strokes of a canoe paddle. |
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Pools of WordsThis poems just won’t fitinto perfect meter, contrived to ring true from deep inside Roget Sometimes I can’t handle the confines of lines and verses I guess that’s an apology in advance, but you’ve been on my mind among other things, so many things in a life of things, I need to find order in disorder, clarity in confusion This is the best I can do, paddling hard as I can, usually upstream against tides and current and every time I take a stroke proper words slide down the blade and run together Is it sweat or clear cool drops streaming down my arm, catching sunlight, running to the bottom of the boat One in the same perhaps, thoughts and memory tears and transgression in pools of words Idling is what calls me, but first a few strokes more |
 This poem is included in Jim Freeman's poetry collection THE SMELL OF TWEED AND TOBACCO available here in print or as an e-Book in your favorite formats. |
