Kwame Dawes. Courtesy photo. It is hard to tell whether in 10 years readers will know what a “drop down menu” is, but that is the beauty and risk of poetry — to find poetry in the present vernacular, and to hope its accuracy and beauty justify its use.
Sidney Burris, in his poem, “Runoff,” is in hope, too. The promise of spring for him, is a metaphor for one of many functions of the imagination.
In this instance it is the capacity to believe in a better future by seeing it before it comes. I imagine that readers will get that part, long into the future.
Runoff By Sidney Burris
January’s drop-down menu leaves everything to the imagination: splotch the ice, splice the light, remake the spirit…
Just get on with it, doing what you have to do with the gray palette that lies to hand. The sun’s coming soon.
A future, then, of warmth and runoff, and old faces surprised to see us. A cache of love, I’d call it, opened up, vernal, refreshed.
Kwame Dawes. Courtesy photo. It is hard to tell whether in 10 years readers will know what a “drop down menu” is, but that is the beauty and risk of poetry — to find poetry in the present vernacular, and to hope its accuracy and beauty justify its use.
Sidney Burris, in his poem, “Runoff,” is in hope, too. The promise of spring for him, is a metaphor for one of many functions of the imagination.
In this instance it is the capacity to believe in a better future by seeing it before it comes. I imagine that readers will get that part, long into the future.
Runoff By Sidney Burris
January’s drop-down menu leaves everything to the imagination: splotch the ice, splice the light, remake the spirit…
Just get on with it, doing what you have to do with the gray palette that lies to hand. The sun’s coming soon.
A future, then, of warmth and runoff, and old faces surprised to see us. A cache of love, I’d call it, opened up, vernal, refreshed.