Sometimes, Writing writes poetry.  I never knew if these poems were any good.  Someone once told me that the evidence of a good poem is one that makes the hair on the back of one’s neck stand up.

An ordinary person once read a poem and she told me that the hairs on the back of her neck were standing up.

Here it is:

Both of the worlds

both of the earth – grounds

by which substitution for loneliness

self-imposed exile

escapades and bright encounters

are moments within my day

into sands – thousands of years

beneath one, granules of time

under my very own skin

precious metamorphosis.

Advertisement