• Sam Ferrante

The Ceremony, Aria Aber

Lately I've been all tercets in the first draft. I'm not really sure why except that I get into these form rhythms and then have to write out of it. I love the sheer scope of this poem, the attention to stay inside the self and write all the way out to God and back. The nearly cheeky self-indictment in the last stanza, "All this time it had been wrong, / the way I was beseeching––  / to want the universe to pity me."

And for a crash course in POWERFUL ASS stanza breaks:

"I inhabited a human or a tree: I remained // a glob of impermanence. Plenty of me"

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