This entry is part 24 of 47 in the series Morning Porch Poems: Summer 2012


Some words lisp before you can
even say them: say thistle.

Say chant. Say tuft
lit up by the sun
. Fields

spread with a wealth
of accidental sound.



In response to an entry from the Morning Porch.

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  1. Me too. Luisa’s poems are so often on the long side, it’s easy to forget she can turn out a mean micropoem, too.


  2. Thanks, Peter and Dave. Once I caught a whiff of how this poem might sound, those sounds pretty quickly drew me in.


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