What’s your smallest poem? I mean in terms of square footage. If you were to go to work at Neidecker’s “condensary (from which there is no layoff),” what flavor would be your pulpy concentrate? Orange, persimmon, rage, wonder?
Short, Fast, and Deadly has long been a contemporary standard-bearer of micro-mini prose and poetry, and following is one of two poems editor Joseph A. Quintela was kind enough to include in that vibrant channel for the mighty small. Read the rest of this entry »