The Art of Poetry

To make a poem is to make light that brings a secret of the day, transform the dew’s pearl catch the fold of shadows, to create; each petal, light as minerals, beckons in a whisper— —is bright, yet source; a shifting pulse, like the night’s birth, becoming tenanned dew
—where ocean fades, let every word rest bound in things, do not lose the word! —H.D.

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