(29 October 1924 – 28 July 1998 / Lvov)

What do you think this poem is about?

Nothing Special

nothing special
boards paint
nails paste
paper string

mr artist
builds a world
not from atoms
but from remnants

forest of arden
from umbrella
ionian sea
from parkers quink

just as long as
his look is wise
just as long as
his hand is sure -

and presto the world -

hooks of flowers
on needles of grass
clouds of wire
drawn out by the wind

Submitted: Friday, January 03, 2003


Read poems about / on: wind, sea, world, flower

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