Sunday, March 14, 2010

Sunday afternoons..

I'm reading my poetry, pausing, stumbling, working on inflection.

It's bad to smile when you are talking about death.

And you have to give the listeners clues, that your poem is funny.

It's so much sit at the kitchen table, the ambience of unwashed pots and sunday comics as your audience.

When I present, I will have to take a piece of this tranquility with me.

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