LAST RESORT (Postcard Poetry)

Where does a poet go on vacation?

To a cottage on the satire shore, with clapboards of couplets and wallpaper of words?

To an alliteration amusement park, with deadline-defying rollercoasters and chapbook prizes that just gather dust?

Or maybe on a seventeen-line cruise to the Isle of Haiku, to bask in the south sea sonnets and imbibe mojitos garnished with meter?

Maybe.

But most poets I know just sit down at a desk and journey alone, word sherpas at work, gone on vacation.

 

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