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Guest Poet Colin Bennett


As cameras pointed,
tuxedoed brief musical
rushes, opacity of milk,
history may occur.
Storks are in the rushes
and infants in the reeds:
but no, not
something more pressing
about cameras and weeds.

Reflections in
trembling waters,
and Holy Holy
Holy Hosanna
and all the rest
of it hermetic
like an oily
brown paper
bag, bottom of
the river.

Slick Slack Slank
way down the way
to the river bank
though so
chariots may suffice,
or yet a diving bell:
tolls then like repast and
penitents like trees felled.

August, 2002

Colin Bennett's questions:

Is the transition OK between stanzas? i.e. does the pacing seem choppy?

Is the rhyming corny and didactic or does it fit?

Is the development of the religious motif too in-your-face?


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