No ! For the last time, I cannot
revive poems, nor mend their bones,
the shadows I stitch harbour no
symbols, no myths, no demons
even. It’s yours
to cut, yours to
salvage. Bleach a femur, sand off
a finger, drill holes in a line,
and you might end up with a flute.
***
Godefroy Dronsart is a writer, teacher and musician currently residing near Paris. His first chapbook The Manual was published earlier this year by Sweat Drenched Press and explores the space between poetry, prose and gamebooks. He has a sweet tooth for all things experimental, modernist and strange. @OzoneGrass on Twitter
***
image: Lindsay Hargrave
Rejection Letters 