Friday, September 14, 2007

Splash du Jour: Friday


Words of a poem should be glass

But glass so simple-subtle its shape

Is nothing but the shape of what it holds.

A glass spun for itself is empty,

Brittle, at best Venetian trinket.

Embossed glass hides the poem of its absence.

Words should be looked through, should be windows.
The best word were invisible.
The poem is the thing the poet thinks.

If the impossible were not,
And if the glass, only the glass,

Could be removed, the poem would remain.

-- Robert Francis –

Have a great Friday!

1 comment:

Lostcheerio said...

So, is the poem the hot glass, in the process of taking the shape of the air inside? or is it the cold glass, brittle, breakable?