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Hi
by George Hoernerthere you are
with you pretty house
flowers and birds
watching the world
whether in jersey,
the golden state,
belgium. alabama,
or some other world
you’ve manufactured
i checked the chapters,
the bibliography
and the footnotes
i thought i was missing
but then on page 323
there i was
in the middle of the line
that little misshaped comma
no doubt a printing error
for it doesn’t belong
not there
or any where except
here where i
am lost
04/18/2009
Posted on 10/18/2011
Copyright © 2023 George Hoerner
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Charlie Morgan on 10/18/11 at 08:10 PM ...george, if i may say: this is more than a morning laugh; yet i do appreciate dawn's observation. i had a heckuva deep, heavy of the word package[pome]and still w/ that diff, i loved "what" it said to me...definitely well writ as she says. |
| Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 10/19/11 at 01:36 AM Hahahaha - I did not know where this was going, and I'm not sure where you are, George, but I'm pretty sure we're still all in this together. |
| Posted by Shannon McEwen on 10/21/11 at 04:04 AM I agree with all of the above! |
| Posted by Glenn Currier on 10/31/11 at 05:29 PM Ah!... to figure out what we are, jots, tittles, misshapen commas and what is our place in the universe... what page what line. THEN - to be ok with being lost in the middle of a line in the middle of a book in the middle of a library ... - that's the rub - eh? Cool pome, George. |
| Posted by Lori Blair on 11/28/11 at 12:05 AM Just excellent George..and the thing is if you are on page 323 all before that could never be as important! :) |
| Posted by A. Reed on 12/10/11 at 02:32 AM I suddenly was reminded of an ad I saw on a magazine for a car dealership...
It read, "Amereca." with a nice flag and Uncle Sam nearby. |
| Posted by Philip F De Pinto on 04/08/12 at 01:26 PM another wonderful piece for the ages, my friend. another splendid opus to strum to excite to communicate to the deepest the most soulful senses. a musician in every sense of the word is who you are, George. |
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