June 2017
C J Clark
cjclark144@att.net
One year ago I pulled my car to the side of the road to listen to a piece of music by an Italian composer, so compelling, so overwhelming that I didn't think to exhale until it was finished. I started writing. I wrote my first poem to the composer. Doors, windows and floodgates opened wide and I couldn't stop writing poetry.  I'm an exhibiting artist/illustrator, fiction writer, author of three novels and now, I write poetry with an abundant appreciation for the music of Ludovico.   (my website: cjclarkartist.com)

Skogmo Cafe


Wasn't this once called the Skogmo Cafe?
We laugh lightly
Because neither of us can say,
Instead we order soup
And sip the chowder, the broth
Of our separate winters,
Of your life, made of solid things
And of mine
Made of tiny single splinters.
© 2017 C J Clark
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