Prolegomena to a New Poetics
Winter Quarter
Writing Prompt: A Bad Poem (In Class)
Ode to Virginia
Fawn colored milk
sheds from the bosom of mother earth.
So laments: THE great, soggy, Virginia. Rocks
in her pockets to help shed the weight of literary heaviness.
She has no room of her own—big enough to shelter glass-fragile melancholy.
She’s sinking now—not too quickly…………..not too slowly—just at the right speed
to make her point, before the waters of sorrow ruin a good hair day.
Before Virginia’s bouffant surrenders to the tickle of the Ouse.
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