beyond most breath a mist of elemental sentence fractured home
narration bindweed part forsworn part hairline
in a minute honey lambast sleet pitting the windows against
driving sunshine matterhorned in on the lithe bone stricture
anyway you get that it was raining snarls and she eluded
hypo-conversationalist would-be openings it seemed best just to
starch the mood and say things for eclipsed new record
bordering on camisole and resurrection minted from the raw spawned hemline
now forelawns eek their way out of the neighbor's point
of view the case price of a dowager's commitment braces us each
to exude more hexagram than thought pints to a person beside prep
it's not just Monday anymore craned neck equals one's obligation
tagged by young breath cleats and fine lawn image the game that everyone
a must-see turned tantrum under house arrest erosion sanctifies
a furtive kind of mesh a lean-to plunked next door to depth perception
maybe anybody can as easily build do-it-yourself worship and draw lots
Reading your work, I am struck by a sense of the lyric wishing to escape from the strictures of Langpo, and urge you go with experiment on this idea, after all, what is poem but that which is flowing over a river bed. Like graph frozen plotted moment which never can be repeated. And frozen is Frost unfolding as it go, not knowing one to next what will appear up at the page. At least I try and think similar to this when I have that Bob Frost head wearing as I write.
But you must accept my sorriness Ms Murphy, for I am only poor scribbler who wants to join up with you, as I can undertand direction which I see you in.
Most Ever Yours
Anon
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