Monday, May 8, 2017

Kevin Patrick Hodgkiss writes



Recipe for Poetry

Do words
    Fall
        Out of the imagination
As eggs drop
    From the back end
        Of a well-fed but nervous hen
Picked and placed
    Into the poet’s dozen
        Scrambled, unscrambled
Until they’re well fit?

Or
Are words
    The final product
        Squeezed and forced
With cramps and contractions
            From the bodysoul
Out of the life gutter
    Splatter
       Onto the clean white page?

Does one
    Bear down
        Or dream
To produce
    The best words
Kidney stone
    Child
        Shit
Or
    Simply
        Lace curtains
            In the breeze?
 Paul Cadmus - The Poet, 1932. Egg tempera on paper
 The Poet -- Paul Cadmus

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