Hot Lyric

This entry is part 40 of 63 in the series Morning Porch Poems: Autumn 2011


Reading a poem by Di Piero, …the best
of love is enthusiasm’s/ intense abandon,
a voice/ in song that preys on no one/ and is
unconscious of its joy
, I have to stop and think
hard to remember: when was the last time I
felt such rust-colored joy, ruddy as the copper-
clad teakettle brought quick to the boil,
singing its head off atop the stove?


In response to an entry from the Morning Porch.

Series Navigation← Ghazal of the TranscendentalOn the sense of danger or foreboding, the prickling →

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.