Monday, December 31, 2012

found poem 2012 | assembled from the pages of the new yorker

The morning was cold and the sky was bright.
Aretha Franklin wore a large and interesting hat.

There's something ridiculous about a woman
who takes seven husbands
as if she had rummaged through the drawers of masculinity
and come up with seven dwarves.

The real hippie
is neither biddable
nor daft.

by Ron Reed