White-Binder Poems  

By David Eide  

Poetry or prose; the novel or the poem
Back and forth like an idiot who read too many 
professors when young. It is the world inside,
cut away from the world and allowed to stand 
on its own feet.

Enactments that trouble us three years after they occur.

If, after twenty or fifty wonderful poems, prose emerges,
a story, fine, follow the trail that rises to the sun.





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