for no real poem has a first line
any more than a real book
has a first page
...
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Oo er, missus, you've got some source, Mr Shepherd. ; ¬) Danny
A highly imaginative tribute to that creative muse that lurks in the depths of despair and in the farthest star twinkling in the night sky. Mr. Shepherd your penning is glorious as usual. love, Allie xxxxxxxxxxxxx
...so true, Michael. Our writings are indeed the expressions of the forces that play those, seconds, minutes, days, weeks and years, co-mingle-ing chemistries that produce (at times) some powerful poetic energy. Blessings, Debora
Michael, this is an inversion of the Derrida problem and may well have played into his hands - language that's almost beyond our ken and an absence of it which we can identify with to perfection. Brilliant as usual. If it isn't actually here with us, that first line is certainly more than present in spirit. Fiendishly clever. jim
This poem is breathtaking in its imagery and its truth. I read the title and had to know more. You are right in everything you said. Martha