z

Young Writers Society


Poor Imp

Photo of Poor Imp

Poor Imp!

Life--became stop-start fragments; survival, still--too staggering ; stopped. Heart beat moments and no memory. Barefeet on pavement without the breath to know it's evening.

Then, because I remembered I could love, start-stop rattled-battled back again; thriving, jiving; heartaches and cracks better than a chest that lacks.

Summer-soul.


Interests

Being. Tolkien. Languages. Still Autumns; dashing derring-do Springs into Summer. Impishness. Fencing. Chess. Narrative. Lyrics. Football--er, not the sort with the oblong ball.

Occupation

Tutor and Editor

Website

https://shikisstringliterary.wordpress.com


Poetry is my cheap means of transportation. By the end of the poem the reader should be in a different place from where he started. I would like him to be slightly disoriented at the end, like I drove him outside of town at night and dropped him off in a cornfield.
— Billy Collins