I'm currently in a class labeled "Writing Deep Image Poetry." It's a fascinating class and something that has eluded me as I think most of my poetry to date tends to be cerebral. It's been wonderful to delve into this style, though I may not be anywhere close to fitting into that category. I know I have entertained myself and re-awakened a love of poetry in me.
Vive
He draws the hills in meditation
with the lead on his tires.
They are thin, not unlike
the pencils used in
standardized tests.
The hills come smooth,
and rugged, with animal skin.
Leaves pass in a blur,
his morning and afternoon:
squirrel’s tail.
In his calf muscle
are deer with full racks
and frost.
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