Elisa Gabbert extends her hit streak, writes NaPoWriMo poem for 4/17. Experts say she's the next Paul Molitor.
RENAISSANCE BLOGPOEM
Already today’s sky is replacing
yesterday’s sky in my mind.
It, like all skies, was an unforgettable
sky, but nonetheless I’m starting
to forget it, as the sky comes cresting over
yesterday’s horizon like a monster wave—
as it comes scrolling upward like
film credits to tell us our new names—
I can’t rewind or skip back to my fave
scenes, of one wing flapping,
one-half of a white horse galloping. . . .
*
Like a lesser Michelangelo
my poem had inessential parts
so I rolled it down a great hill and
they broke off. Now my poem is a sphere
I hold in my palm—it’s the size
of a spider’s eye. I cast it out
into the wind. I know tomorrow
the wind will blow me another one.
Already today’s sky is replacing
yesterday’s sky in my mind.
It, like all skies, was an unforgettable
sky, but nonetheless I’m starting
to forget it, as the sky comes cresting over
yesterday’s horizon like a monster wave—
as it comes scrolling upward like
film credits to tell us our new names—
I can’t rewind or skip back to my fave
scenes, of one wing flapping,
one-half of a white horse galloping. . . .
*
Like a lesser Michelangelo
my poem had inessential parts
so I rolled it down a great hill and
they broke off. Now my poem is a sphere
I hold in my palm—it’s the size
of a spider’s eye. I cast it out
into the wind. I know tomorrow
the wind will blow me another one.
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