To begin a poem…

To begin a poem is a pocketful of worries,
a fingered string of glass beads,
eggs cracked into a mixing bowl,
a leap into darkness
off a cliff of unknown height.

But to end a poem
is to land with a bump,
to crash, to be finally still,
a kind of little death, une petite morte,
and then breathing.

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About Ray Sharp

Father, poet, triathlete, local public health planner
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