the line of thirteen

Poem #60 from a series of poems drawn from the imagination and collected as: a Bachelard reverie.

Back to Bachelard and me – Introduction

today he read
a line

in the book
on the page

close to the center

an average line
thirteen words
or fourteen

ebb and flow
from the start

to the end

he pondered
the beauty
of words
arranged by typeset

in a straight line
pressed across the page

he thought it

it left him

after a contemplation
he could almost
reading another

a serious temptation

thirteen words
laid out
as a thing of beauty
is enough

best to put aside
the page
the book
and to ponder again
what he has read

the words to come

it is so

© Frank Prem 2017

Bachelard and me Poem #61: the sculpt

3 thoughts on “the line of thirteen

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