Wednesday, August 05, 2009

In the forest deep

In the forest deep (Indian Pipes), by Mary Stebbins Taitt.

Not all efforts please me, but I decided to post this anyway while I
consider what I'd have preferred.

4 comments:

Mick said...

I know what you mean ... and this is something of a curious, manipulated layering. What are indian pipes? A flower? Or, the actual smokum thingys sticked in the ground? :)

Mary Stebbins Taitt said...

They are a flower, one that has no chlorophyll. I'm not happy with this, but I am out of time to "play" right now.

Moineau En France said...

i LOVE it... just thought i'd give an alternative perspective... mine! i'm glad you posted this, mary. we find this with poems in our group, too. sometimes something really stands out to everyone except the poet!i like it very much. hope you have a lovely morning. xoxoxoxooxox

Mary Stebbins Taitt said...

I am so glad you like it, Laura--it resonated for me but I couldn;'t quite get what I wanted.