[I took to a high
place and stayed
till I was forced by
a hole in my coat
to come home.
I almost wrote.]
Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Friday 27 January 1659/60.
Dave Bonta (bio) often suffers from imposter syndrome, but not in a bad way — more like some kind of flower-breathing dragon, pot-bellied and igneous. Be that as it may, all of his writing here is available for reuse and creative remix under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 4.0 International License. For attribution in printed material, his name (Dave Bonta) will suffice, but for web use, please link back to the original. Contact him for permission to waive the “share alike” provision (e.g. for use in a conventionally copyrighted work).
I like the way your paraphrase comes in a little block, like a patch or page, something processed and in a case. :^)
It’s a Land of Cockaigne, where pages of fatty text flop in the breeze with scissors by them.
Heh. Yeah. What shocked me about this one was that I ended up with an end-rhymed poem without even intending to. That’s a Land-of-Cockaigne kind of thing, isn’t it?