|Lost River, West Virginia|
Through the frame and the forest is the realm of lyrical poetry –
a wilderland of emotion on a page with margins.
Emotion has rhythm and often seeks rhyme, maybe because it has no reason whatsoever. It seems to like expression more than analysis or dissection.
Beauty trumps anger or tragedy because it seduces with its lovely form, shaping stories that nearly kill you to live but in the lyrical poem there isn’t any permanence anyway. It’s a transport into a state of being like a lyrical dance.
Moss has no roots; it seats and spreads its spores… for more.
For more (or less)
the first spore is coming soon…