Having Already Invented the Greeks
Nothing much left to talk about
beyond the iron law the hero butchered
on the battlefield pierced through the tendons
ankle to heel no different now
an outcrop of cloud a sense of place
of carnage descending in parabolic loops
the war horse drags the hero round
Are we any the wiser are we so inclined
at this late hour to drop a jot of ichor
on the memory stone and twilit leave
the hero in the dirt have done with it
and what would we be if we did
(these are the questions we ask ourselves)
less lyrical surely vast tracts of time ahead
nothing to say about taking ourselves so seriously
washed in the blood of this not that
In the meanwhile something within foresees
not even the end will end with us
the taking place won't end in time
the pages turning eternity on its round
stage turning forever only one day more
if only in seeming so
surely it ought to bring us closer
call at least our feelings back
the original of us telling it over
the story we hurry to begin again
to explain ourselves as best we can.
http://poems.com/poem.php?date=16198
-
Poetry like this is vivid, and brings a certain sense of personality, otherwise untouchable. The picture it creates is one of superior understanding, and devotion to the craft of poetry.
KD.
No comments:
Post a Comment