Poet Commentaries

The Roots of Poetry

  • May 14th.

A poem I am creating demanded I know more about roots.  As a gardener roots have always been adored. Tracing rhizomes, noting each node and every fibrous feeder is what I do.  My poetry gropes the dark too, mining it for nutrients and sustenance that I draw up.

The bleached pebble plunged under the soil by an errant foot fall will find me quietly waiting.  I wait here for shriveled petals and tears to be drawn too.  How does one describe the feel of enclosing around a smooth pebble or wriggling a toe down in burlap sheets to find the cool spots.

I love taps best
moisture drawn from the deep
the trumpet sound

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