Having already equaled the number of Hercules’ labors without even lifting a finger, I have decided to do the same with my second collection of poems, Water and Silt.
I like the word/picture sketches, both are time/places for wandering around in. there, there are paths but no route. No destination really either, ‘til you get there. They are like the current incarnation of Sherlock Holmes’ “mind palaces,” except, as there is no crime to be deduced; going there is to be enjoyed. Thanks.
I like your notion of wandering around – finding your way.
As Harry Chapin wrote, “It’s got to be the going not the getting there that’s good.”
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