|
The Whirlwind Review Issue 1 Table of Contents More Poetry Previous Sharon Carter
Ars PoeticaEach morning I remove yesterday’s ashes,add kindling, last week’s paper. The stove won’t light itself— I need insights, one perfect word sparking another. Outside a flicker digs bark beetles from Douglas fir. He stabs, swallows, attacks again— the way I flip through my thesaurus, try various nouns, switch heads from front to back, remove limbs, antennae, create a better bug. So much depends on the muse’s presence. She is never languid— her temperament more akin to carpenter ants who excavate my cottage walls— some scurry in circles, or like the woodstove roar into action, only to burn themselves out. I swivel back and forth in my chair. Wait. |
Web Design by Jill Jepson, XHTML/CSS Implementation by Beyer Services LLC