I like when poems teach me things about their own composition. This one wanted to flip itself. Originally “Partial to sky––tadpoles . . .“ was first line with the four subsequent lines at the beginning. The waitress especially wanted to be at the end, at the car window, breathing, a bit of hope. Then the punctuation wanted to help the poem sing its own song in the repeopled metropole.
Gillian Conoley on "A metropole that unpeoples and peoples" |
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What Sparks Poetry:
Brandon Shimoda on Other Arts
"Dot and I were sleeping on the floor. Yumi was in the other room. It was raining and windy. We hung a furin, a Japanese wind bell, above our front porch, and it was ringing loudly, sweetly. It kept me awake, in a good way. I was content to just listen, then lines of poetry, unremarkable but quietly unrelenting, came to mind." |
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