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Sunday, September 19, 2010

Hold the Line

Some days
I measure things out,
more Mondrian than Pollock.
If I let my line out, say,
for a walk with Paul Klee, I do it
with a ruler and eraser
at the ready.
Other days I say,
Fuck that! and throw words around
more Pollock than Mondrian.
Looking back, I see
metaphors of fishing and knitting
rise up, reef rocks between
lounge rooms of doilies,
and running away from them all—
organic, natural as breath—
an umbilical line
heading straight for
my mother.

2 comments:

Coral Carter said...

wow young andy i like this one hold the line love coral

andrew burke said...

Thanks young Coral. With this deluge of encouragement, I may post another poem ...