The world is a vast, vast place (Oct 13, 1998).
I've been playing around with poetry form. I'm not completely happy with
this one since the focus on form seems to have taken away the idea. What's form without meaning? It was started a long time ago but finished in Oct '98
Vast Questions
The vast, vast spaces.
from mountain granite to personal places
from giant evergreens to moonlit streams
wide flat plains and early afternoon dreams.
The vast, vast details.
from star arrayed skies to remote hiking trails
from teaming rain drops to telescope prisms
multinational digital networks and sharp lover's criticism.
The vast, vast learnings.
from eastern scribblings to hours of solitary yearnings
from bullshit philosophy to beer-stained poetry journals
obscure famous paintings and grafitti covered urinals.
How can I get from here to there?
How can I cleanse the scars I bare?
How do I answer these great questions?
How do I understand these puzzling creations?
Where is there to go?
Who is there that knows?
Who is there to know?
No?
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