© Marie Marshall.
Geeze… you can dress ’em up, but ya can’t take ’em out.
love those cool beans and hot biscuits.
sometimes makes the kickapoo speak in anal phrase flatulence
and keep fancy talk of cheeses to a minimal hype.
Personally I think Mr K needs to give it a rest; the sound of a bassoon is ok, but the breeze off the river is a different matter altogether.
those health food store supplements never induce sleep, for me anyway
but some wild turkey and tryptophan.
that’s another matter.
where’d that smile button go?
the moon as a macho medallion..ha..he can be..smiles
Amongst other things.
Wow. A friend pointed me here to your poetry. What a fun way you have with words.
I like to play.
You are a very,
very, very, very
clever girl, Marie.
I am going to start putting footnotes on my poetry too
that makes people squint so hard they kick-a-poo
and perhaps I will get more clicks for my cluck.
Just to get serious about poetry for a moment. I don’t claim to have invented this footnotes-in-poetry business, although I have certainly come to it independently*. What I’m doing, I suppose, is challenging the reader’s expectations about poetry, in a small way, inasmuch as I’m forcing him/her to make a choice about whether to interrupt the ‘flow’ of the poem to read the footnote, or to continue the ‘flow’ and read the footnote afterwards.
It’s a technique I have used a little in my new collection ‘I am not a fish’.
* I guess I might owe a debt to the novel-writing of Manuel Puig, though.
Wow. You’re awesome, Marie! OK, you’ve sold me.
Fine footnotes are surely our friends.
I shan’t swat at a footnote again.
I shall write a short ditty
that is winsome and witty;
To poet* of note it I’ll send.
* Marie of Scots
And we’ll come up, come up, come up to Limerick.
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