classics

The Second guessing

“Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold”
– W. B. Yeats

You omit
before you write yourself
lest you become
the colossal weight of
what lies under the ocean, that be,
the weathered face of the mad king,
the woman who had jumped off the roof,
a past lover of your lover,
a past-lover.

The ocean is no man’s alone
and yet it floods us all
with it’s seismic wreck,
spinning:
it batters old and new structures alike,
it eats men alive
and leave them language.



A moment of bliss

See the source image
Engraving by Johann Ulrich Kraus c. 1690.

Things keep happening
O what is new to foretell–
scratching his soft beard,
Tiresias slips into his twin-bed
and dreams of a shepherd
in a song of reaping,
that is,
neither to sow
nor to sell;
but the snakes soon unravel.