Wednesday, 8 April 2020

J.R. Solonche : part two

How do you know when a poem is finished?

When the fat lady sings. Or when the poem lies back, lights up a cigarette, and blows the smoke in my face. Or when I stick a fork in it.  Or when it cries, “Uncle.” Or when I hear the subdominant, dominant, tonic cadence.

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