not winter not snow
it isn’t winter. it isn’t snow. it isn’t visible.
no limbs broken in a turbulent storm.
- writing poems with beginnings, endings.
no middle feet.
meanings like waves, then gone.
smaller than a morsel of salt.
dissolved in a sea of words.
and drink.
neil reid © june 2013
comment: not writing a poem.
bearly audible 
A perfectly wonderful not-poem, Neil.
At first I thought this was similar to Chaucer saying: “Now, I’m NOT going to tell you about a and b and c..”
And then he proceeds to do just that.
Your ‘no words’ engage us just as much as if they were ‘yes words’. It is the words themselves that set our/my mind thinking and creating the positive images asscociated with them.
In a way I feel disappointed at doing all that interpreting work for nothing.
And then I marvel at the power of the word ‘no’ in this context, and the cheeky manner of manipulating the reader’s mind this way.
It is almost like telling a child not to touch something and then, leaving the room, seeing that that is the first thing they do.
Lately the relationship between poem and reader has kept me intrigued. Thank you for adding to that with these lines.