Wednesday, March 16, 2011
In a fight to the death
between goodyou and evilyou,
the cost of the rug you’re fighting on
like two market women,
having seen something to desire.
Please whisper all your secrets
to each other
between blows, like lovers,
and when you movetogether
(against one another)
please keep in your belly
something to sweeten the bite
sitting on the rug like a child
from their wings.
annnnnnd something not-mine that I love:
The Old Men Admiring Themselves in the Water
by William Butler Yeats
I heard the old, old men say,
And one by one we drop away.'
They had hands like claws, and their knees
Were twisted like the old thorn-trees
By the waters.
'All that's beautiful drifts away
Like the waters.'
Drawing: Girl at the Mirror, by Norman Rockwell