poetry in prose

"Sometimes while she was writing, a slip of one of these street conversations insinuated itself into a poem, and what had been fleeting and anonymous was set down in print. So much of writing was about not saying this, not saying that, the obvious crossed out, whole pages of notes not used, and then purely by chance, a stranger's talk suddenly mattered. Unpredictably, a scrap of the world seized up and glowed."
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"She was the space between the sole of a shoe and the pavement, the air rattling in a loose windowpane, the sound no one listened to, like trouser legs rubbing together. Gray and loose, and unnoticed."
--Holy Skirts, Rene Steinke