Constantinople
I am made of raw edgesin this city ofbedlam, and chaos,havoc and wonder,a place of incomparable powerthat once was Byzantium,then Constantinople,now Istanbul, a cityI have dreamed so many times. I am here to see a dervish,whirling in the ecstatic trancethat leads to Allah,and to sip rich, ochre coloredtea from apples. To skitterthrough bazaarsso full of
Comic: Understanding Poetry
In honour of National Poetry Month, have a look at these two wonderful pieces on poetry from artist Grant Snider, who has been publishing Incidental Comics online since 2009. See his website, here. This next one is from the April 3 edition of the New York Times Book Review.
The Definition of Fleeting
By Carl Sandburg The fog comes on little cat feet. It sits looking over harbor and city on silent haunches and then moves on. #
Five thoughts on writing
Words pool Like a tag cloud Stringing, singing Tempting me to Choose. #
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