Saturday, March 3, 2018

MICHAEL PALMER ~










After


And to write a poem

beneath the sickle moon

is barbaric



And to trace a poem

upon the lover's body

is barbaric



And to write a poem

amidst the dust

amidst the dust



storm of history is barbaric

And to read a poem

To read



while the book is burning

and to enter the Paper House

while the streets are burning



To enter the Paper House

which is silent

And to hear the song



should we call it a song

soonest gone

of the cicadas



in the parching heat

when to drink

of the lover's liquid



is barbaric

And to wander

in a dark wood



wander lost

in a dark wood

to look



and to begin

to say farewell

to begin



and to dwell

to dwell upon

to dwell among




——————————

Michael Palmer
The Laughter of the Sphinx
New Directions 2016