A found poem based on steve brock's comments today, on the WeChat smashing poetry group

 


And as soon as i read it i turned it into a found poem:

03 - 

the full stops slow
the poem down

each phrase becomes a
stationary cloud

Now that we are
slow we can

appreciate the
journey of the

ants. The mind and heart are
still. A cloud becomes some

thing we listen
to. The mind is an em

pty cup, recei
ving the wis

dom of t
he cloud.

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