There is much happening in the world but I don’t want to talk about it. (Or in the case of my good news, I have to postpone talking about it for a little while longer.) I feel the need to delve into the necessity of poetry-making. Plenty of time to speak on it all in the light of days to come.
“Rattle, woman. Make noise.”
from The Vault by Callista Buchen.
Another group scheduled in the coming hour.
People still talked in groups of three or two,
others stood in as satellites at a conversational
remove. He spoke once, twice. His baritone
going quiet at the edges. It wasn’t until she
called them, firm voice pitched just above their own,
that they fell silent in a widening arc around the room.
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I really liked Brenda’s poem and want her to continue writing great poems.