Kategori: Poesi

Jet

Sometimes I wish I were still out on the back porch, drinking jet fuel with the boys, getting louder and louder as the empty cans drop out of our paws like booster rockets falling back to Earth and we soar up into the summer stars. Summer. The big sky river rushes overhead, bearing asteroids and […]

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Archaic Torso of Apollo

We cannot know his legendary head with eyes like ripening fruit. And yet his torso is still suffused with brilliance from inside, like a lamp, in which his gaze, now turned to low, gleams in all its power. Otherwise the curved breast could not dazzle you so, nor could a smile run through the placid […]

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A Psalm of Life

What the Heart of the Young Man Said to the Psalmist Tell me not, in mournful numbers, «Life is but an empty dream!» For the soul is dead that slumbers, And things are not what they seem. Life is real! Life is earnest! And the grave is not its goal; «Dust thou art, to dust […]

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A Song On the End of the World

On the day the world ends A bee circles a clover, A fisherman mends a glimmering net. Happy porpoises jump in the sea, By the rainspout young sparrows are playing And the snake is gold-skinned as it should always be. On the day the world ends Women walk through the fields under their umbrellas, A […]

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Ballad of a Thin Man

You walk into the room With your pencil in your hand You see somebody naked And you say, «Who is that man?» You try so hard But you don’t understand Just what you’ll say When you get home Because something is happening here But you don’t know what it is Do you, Mister Jones? You […]

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Desolation Row

Cinderella, she seems so easy «It takes one to know one,» she smiles And puts her hands in her back pockets Bette Davis style And in comes Romeo, he’s moaning «You Belong to Me I Believe» And someone says,» You’re in the wrong place, my friend You better leave» And the only sound that’s left […]

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Desolation Row

They’re selling postcards of the hanging They’re painting the passports brown The beauty parlor is filled with sailors The circus is in town Here comes the blind commissioner They’ve got him in a trance One hand is tied to the tight-rope walker The other is in his pants And the riot squad they’re restless They […]

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The fact that the ascetic ideal can mean so many things to man is indicative of a basic trait of the human wil, its fear of the void. Our will requires an aim; it would sooner have the void for purpose than the void of purpose.

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Normal men do not know that everything is possible. David Rousset

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Cocteau

The importance of failure is crucial. If one has not understood this secrect… one has understood nothing, and glory is futile. Cocteau, Opium.

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