I left New Zealand mid-2003, bound for Istanbul and a new lif. After two years, a Belgian guy lured me into his world, deep in the heart of Europe. For a long time I was an in-process immigrant. One day we married. These days it's about photography, a little red wine and wandering ... and so the journey goes.
Tuesday, October 17, 2006
Like a piece of ice on a hot stove, a poem must ride on its own melting. A poem may be worked over once it is in being but may not be worried into being. R. Frost Preface, "Collected Poems"
2 comments:
I worry stuff into being all the time. Oh yeah, except that stuff isn't very good. So there's that.
Are you sure it's not so good?
I love the imagery in the quote but it's all subjective, isn't it.
Perhaps Mr Frost just didn't do pressure ;)
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