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"
I worry stuff into being all the time. Oh yeah, except that stuff isn't very good. So there's that.
ReplyDeleteAre you sure it's not so good?
ReplyDeleteI love the imagery in the quote but it's all subjective, isn't it.
Perhaps Mr Frost just didn't do pressure ;)