I wrote a poem long, long ago.
It was good.
There were fork tines and some maroon.
My heart was delicately spread on the paper.
My heart observed herself and she said
it was good.
I’ll never be able to do that again.
I cannot duplicate the accident.
My Heart Observed Herself
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Blog: Stillfugue Topics:Fiction, Poetry, Essays
stillfugue 
#1 by Sirenum Scopuli on January 27, 2011 - 10:39 pm
I have faith that you will, although your subject may be different.
#2 by Carl on January 27, 2011 - 11:45 pm
Thank you for your comment. Fork tines are scary, so changing subjects is good.
#3 by Claudia on January 28, 2011 - 11:56 am
thought i fall a few posts back..
carl, i really like your writing – spent some time on your blog, browsing through some of your music poems…music is always a big topic for me as well and i would love to spotlight you with your poetry on one of my tuesdays at one stop. if you are interested, please drop me an email: claudiamargarethe@freenet.de
“She knows that I am more broken than pottery could ever be..” love this..
#4 by Carl on January 28, 2011 - 8:50 pm
Claudia, it is very flattering for you to think of me. I will be in touch. Your comments mean a great deal as I strongly admire your work.
#5 by Evelyn on January 28, 2011 - 9:18 pm
“I’ll never be able to do that again.
I cannot duplicate the accident.”
hmmm
another amazing poem. so good.
why would your heart be a woman? just curious…
#6 by Carl on January 28, 2011 - 9:35 pm
That’s between me and my shrink! 🙂
Every time I animate things, they are women. Maybe something is wrong with me? My mood in the She Walks Delicately thing is definitely a woman! It’s more interesting that way.
Thank you for your comment. You are generous with your time and your kindness and I am eternally grateful.