Your thighs are appletreesNow compare my crude efforts with this authentic poem by Williams, "The Red Wheelbarow," which I quote in its entirety:
whose blossoms touch the sky.
Which sky? The sky
where Watteau hung a lady's
slipper. Your knees
are a southern breeze -- or
a gust of snow. Agh! what
sort of man was Fragonard?
-- as if that answered anything.
so much can beCan you honestly say that you find something more worth reading in Williams's much-anthologized lyric than in my parody? It may be there, but it is not there for me. Perhaps it is not there. I do not know.
learned
from a brown
butterfly
drenched with rain
drops
beside the red wheel
barrow.
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This thread has been archived and is closed to new comments
I have ignored
the link
that was in
your post
and which
you were probably
hoping
for praise
Forgive me
it was lengthy
so huge
and so long
posted by sourwookie at 7:43 PM on January 10, 2007