Tuesday, June 13, 2017

Near Miss

Near Miss

 By Fanny Howe

I almost met you

On a Saturday

In Gloucester.

The wind blew easterly.

There was a jar of mums

On a table near the window.


Their yellows were calling

To each other.



Were put back

In the pencil drawer

Before I noticed your shadow.

About This Poem


“This is a poem composed by the words themselves, calling out their sounds to each other. Compared to them, listless human longing for an unknown friend amounts to nothing. I can say that the name Gloucester, so resonant in my mind, set off the poem in the first place.”

—Fanny Howe

This poem remind me of the "Missed Connections" section on Craig's list. Some are very funny to read. I've often wondered if they worked.

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