endlessforms

dreamworld photographer

  • it, she, they

and the mirror
not her waking,
aching body showed,
but endless forms,
from feathered fractal
edges spilling out
a snowstorm
swirling silent
in her eyes


i honestly actively avoid exposure to ezra pound's poetry, despite him being such a influential poet,

because any poem i read gets involuntarily and automatically incorporated into my internal model of poetry, like a neural network, or like a musician hearing a song. inspiration and counterinspiration are not things one can control. i can't unread the beautiful poem written by a literal nazi collaborator.

and i'd rather try to minimize the quantity of poetry written by fascists which touches that part of my spirit, my selves.


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