I came across the compendium (what a word!) of Wednesday snaps from poetryetc and thought it'd be a good idea for me to start the practice again. I've been in a slouch. Does too much reading take away from writing?
I started a sestina on the Spring Equinox, not about the equinox but begun on that day. But maybe it is about the equinox. It orignated as free verse that looked too much like prose. I've got four stanzas and my morning eyes do not like it at all.
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I dreampt of aiding & abetting a fugitive last night. We were in jail together for petty crimes. We escaped. I showed him how: here at this spot, jump now! run fast! throw off your prison clothes, throw off your prison cap! I went home. He went his separete way. An investigator found the trail, something to do with dogs and a dumpster, and my father's emptied trash. I rush to dad: I did something; I got myself involved with this guy...but they're knocking at the door & dad doesn't keep them waiting. The investigator should recognize me but he doesn't. All the while my heart beating, keeping a cowardly silence, evaluating my risks - aiding & abetting a fugitive - what's the jail term? should I fess up? But he doesn't recognize me. I'm home free. What about the other prisoner? Will they catch him?
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Stray cats have found my backyard. They know about the sunflower seeds, the blue jays and titmouse and squirrels. They walk my wooden fence awkwardly, legs spread, head angled up. One prowls on the ledge next to the big window and is surprised to see me sitting here. I tell her she's trespassing in an unfriendly voice. She understands and runs out of sight.
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