The Reductions Poem by Rebecca Wolff
The Reductions
Let's go out and buy something. In the sun.
No, let's stay home and make something, the sun floods the room. It
could be green, on paper. It could be money. That's the way to create
new matter.
That's how I detach boats from moorings—my boat, my mooring—
the harbor
shallow in low tide
skiff propelled over buffeting sands flats on
sheer
puissance.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/1/2024 4:10:19 AM # 1.0.0.1119
