Saturday, December 05, 2009


I have been destroyed, I know that.
I have turned sharply wrong
Onto a long eroded beach,
Coming too fast from the skyway,
Crashing through trees like some fat leaded falcon
Who crossed the ocean all at once—
More like a shot put arriving than a migration,
Some might say. At any rate, I went so far,
I went so wrong, I cared no longer for birdsong.

I was determined at all costs to avoid pain and discomfort,
But it got completely out of hand;
I guess I could wait here and kill time
As I always have done,
Or I might glibly run away
To some estuary or island marked Nowhere
On my flightless aviation map,
But that’s a place
The Dodo and I have already been.

You know the place, perhaps,
It’s that borderline state
Where all possible sense is just pretence,
An antique form of nonsense,
Torn feathers on a boarded fence,
And all the waste of time involved
In this Solitaire’s slow revolving prance—
It’s here bad girls who dance and bad men without any pants
Have always been about as good as it ever gets.

Created on 11/5/2009 8:41 PM

No comments:

Post a Comment

Abandon hope, all ye who enter here! (At least put on your socks and pants.)