Wednesday, August 24, 2011

A Poet Has Died

The poetry I most love is the poetry that paints with a stingy brush. Samuel Menashe knew how to paint like that. The only comfort to a great mind's demise is the legacy that will always be with us.

REEDS RISE FROM UNDER WATER

rippling under my eyes
Bulrushes tuft the shore

At every instance I expect
what is hidden everywhere

~ Samuel Menashe, 1925 - 2011

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