In penmanship class,

Dave BontaJanuary 14, 2017epigrams and conundrums, meadow

A blurry, twisted wild grape tendril in the foreground, with the snowy meadow full of straight stalks in the background.

time itself was looped, recursive, as my vision blurred and fingers cramped around the cursèd pen.

Published by Dave Bonta

I live in an Appalachian hollow in the Juniata watershed of central Pennsylvania, and spend a great deal of time walking in the woods. My books of poetry include FAILED STATE: HAIBUN, ICE MOUNTAIN: AN ELEGY, BREAKDOWN: BANJO POEMS, and ODES TO TOOLS. View all posts by Dave Bonta