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Save This Trial Balloon

And then the day was the colour of resistance, a blue or yellow, perhaps, or could green entail such logic? The pull nonetheless is towards an ocean of understanding, tho that might be a lake in the middle of a car on the highway going away. Where would people go, if Worcester wasn’t home? They would go to the blue of the sun on a generous morning, or to the green of the sky, when the birds flake out, or to the yellow of the sea, when it is time. This is so obvious, required, a practice, a home, yet the standards of such revival—fitting resistance itself with new document forms—favours a town. That town can be ours. Worcester, where Charles Olson saw the sea.

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Joseph Massey said…
Allen,

I love the poems of yours that I've read online. Would you like to trade books? Let me know.

tongblissATsbcglobalDOTnet

Best --

Joseph Massey
February 25, 2008 at 11:06 PM
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