Post by dmtimney on Mar 11, 2009 0:33:15 GMT -5
The need to suffer, torture the question,
chain circumstance to the wall, and batter out
a useless confession has passed like the first
sun blind with resolution that stumbling, spilled
out the stars then mistaking the gift for misfortune
receded in disgrace to the farthest corner of the sky.
How it is I came to sit at the window of this
plank house sunk to sill in larch and snow,
resolved to rest at odd angles on its seasoned
hearths lacks importance as though I had never
been to where I was, and what was is nothing
more than a small fly, a minor nuisance
to a persistent present where all matters
have in their end fallen together
and nothing is an accident.
chain circumstance to the wall, and batter out
a useless confession has passed like the first
sun blind with resolution that stumbling, spilled
out the stars then mistaking the gift for misfortune
receded in disgrace to the farthest corner of the sky.
How it is I came to sit at the window of this
plank house sunk to sill in larch and snow,
resolved to rest at odd angles on its seasoned
hearths lacks importance as though I had never
been to where I was, and what was is nothing
more than a small fly, a minor nuisance
to a persistent present where all matters
have in their end fallen together
and nothing is an accident.
