new old kid on the blog,
with an occasional
old or new poem written off
the old writer's block
hollows/ swallowsWay to place a rhyme, Vassilis.This is a wonderful poem.
Every stanza sings.
táne-mar and Duncan: the writer sitting in the twilight facing the western horizon waiting. . . .Thank you for being there with me.
Amazing what twelve little words can do when the eleventh slips out of its dark noun mantle and spirals up into the limitless depths of the night sky on the sudden wings of a small verb. The lightness, the fluidity. Was that masked mist a bird? It left a silver bullet. Beautiful example of the practise of working words and lines as hinges. Your poems are always moving, in several senses, from word to word and line to line, Vassilis. The double- and triple-takes generate so much poetic activity. A new marvel every time.(And beautiful title. The compound ringing Germanic -- as, Untergang.)
Thanks, Tom. I’ve said this before and shall never tire of saying it: One never tires of reading your comments for they show how a really, really close reading of a poem should be carried out—you never miss anything, do you? BTW, something for your perusal but please, no questions asked.STEVE BENSON SNEEZES AT THE THOUGHT OF SOMEONE ELSE WRITINGA POEM CONSISTING ENTIRELY OF QUESTIONSIs-is-is-is-is-is-is-is-is-is-is-is-is-is-Achoo! Was there not a nose before your face?