There Is A Kind Of Poetry, Bad

Tonight I Can Smell The Season The Way It's Usually Only Possible To At The Very First Moments Of Its Return, Before You're Used To It, When You've Forgotten Its Smell, Then There It Is Back In The Air And The Flow Of Things Shifting And Resettling Again.

And It Was Always The Stories That Needed The Telling That Gave Us The Rope We Could Cross Any River With. They Balanced Us High Above Any Crevasse. They Made Us Be Natural Acrobats. They Made Us Brave. They Met Us Well. They Changed Us. It Was In Their Nature To.

I'm Blessed In My Good Friends, And Some Of Them Happen To Be Writers, Though That's Almost Never What Our Friendships Are About. And Every Writer I've Ever Read, Living Or Dead, Has In One Way Or Another Helped And Inspired. I Have A Feeling It's Important Not To Mix The Two Up.

Then I Saw Her Smile So Close To My Eye That There Was Nothing To See But The Smile And The Thought Came Into My Head That I’d Never Been Inside A Smile Before. Who’d Have Thought Being Inside A Smile Would Be So Ancient And So Modern Both At Once

The Proper Word For Me," Robin Goodman Says, "is Me.