Thursday Poems: there is no flash by Metta Sáma

Inside Voice

Thursday has rolled around again, and as I frantically searched for a new poem to share with you all, I came across this one. I’ve never heard of Metta Sáma which, having now read some of her work, is strange to me because she is very much in the wheelhouse of the poets I enjoy – very Beat-esque.

Her form is very scattered, which I very much enjoy, because it infuses every word coupling with intense meaning, creating a kind of delirious map of words and ideas:

the eyes            fine tuned            perhaps

consciously       a first time offense

to focus on    cliché                              heaven

Do you see what I mean? It’s scattered but finely mapped. Careful, yet careless in its explosion. She explores the…

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