He's like the bird in a cage
in a pit
in a tunnel,
and he sings just to celebrate air.
Something . . .Everything . . .Nothing . . .
What do you write when you are learning to be a poet? What do you not write? Is there a breath of air taken that doesn't contain a poem buried within it?
lord this is earth
I am alone too far from
water-blue we look
from where you gaze on us . . .
A Poetry Archive visits Frank Prem's early days as a poet. Volume 1 is the first of two collections written between 1998 - 2003, and reveals the emergence of a distinctive poetic voice.
shall I write for you dear reader
the way a fish might do
in swirls and circles through the water . . .
Wild Arancini Press is delighted to bring you this wonderful journal of a poet's beginnings.