| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by George Hoerner on 05/27/09 at 02:40 PM Another fine write Ken. The restless soul certainly does twitch in strange directions. It takes us into restricted places searching for whatever our quest might be known or un. |
| Posted by Samiah Haque on 05/27/09 at 02:44 PM i will read this over a few more times-- but not more than that. :) i will remember these words, and i will be happy that you wrote this. thank you for a beautiful poem. |
| Posted by Gabriel Ricard on 05/27/09 at 03:00 PM Sounds like the soul pretty much has its destiny nailed down. There's definitely something old about this. Something that suggests it's been going on for a long, long time. I really like it. |
| Posted by Jo Halliday on 05/27/09 at 03:54 PM But can the sensation be washed? Your poem is more a question, one I don't get the point of in a way. The questions are not asked for the mud, but for that very precise sensation. The reasons are many: one of them is that you left the grass alone and came hither. But I want to create my own mud, don't I? The real question is that why mud allows me to play in it and make clay idols, why not clear water. |
| Posted by Alison McKenzie on 05/27/09 at 03:55 PM And I don't think you ever really find what you need by the repetition of that particular activity. The divinity of it faded a LONG time ago. I like the image of the "twitching needle" in a "restless soul." |
| Posted by Jo Halliday on 05/27/09 at 03:56 PM Or because I lack the courage to do so outside of mud? Mud still remains always mud. |
| Posted by Kris Mara on 05/27/09 at 04:02 PM this has your stamp of thoughtful poetics mixed with incredible and relatable images...it is indeed beautiful (and I was writing something with mud in it the other day....and now am overcome by the need to delete it for its less-than-ness!) |
| Posted by Joan Serratelli on 05/27/09 at 06:15 PM Loved this piece and the images you laid out.The last 2 lines are absoluteely incredible. Great write! |
