This Monday’s poem is one of the fifty-word poems in my collection of fifty fifty-word poems, “Half Cocks“.
NOTES LIKE RAIN outpouring from overwhelmed
guttering during a deluge – “transcendental
technique”, now taught in magazines.
Numberless books on lepidoptery
an evening’s study. The mind’s uncageable
papillon, fluttering through the fingers.
“Some kind of spirit” as convected warmth,
as sonic youth, as torrents remotely
seeded, propagating to the last breath.
This one comes ready-glossed to some degree – see “Neovores and Educators“.