The 10 o’clock train was running late

Steam bellowed, clock hands ticked

The page on the table was blank, unwritten

Taking a pen determined to fill a void

His name was Jeffery Lloyd

Or should I say, my name was Jeffery Lloyd

Which might be somewhat misleading.

This is a collective poem from the Literary Potlatch, written by the participants on the day, with each of them only able to see the previous line.  At present, the image accompanying it is a stock photo but we would really love someone to respond to the poem visually, as only an original image can possibly do it justice. Full credit will of course be given. Please email rochesterlitfest@gmail.com if you’re interested in creating something special we can share. Thank you.