Sleepy Rain
Garden wet with rain. Flattest calm prevails
at ground-level while a swift, cloud-stream shifts
same grey, more rain-trail, more tattered seed-globes.
A pigeon on the aerial, a sparrow on the vent.
My apple-blossom's nearly finished now.
A few late blooms still constellate the leaves.
The story is the circumstance of fine rain:
this present thinnest drizzle after rain-spit
coming on to call itself a shower.
I sit in it, words blurring, a quiet
late morning sleepyhead, little on my slate.
........................
Hard Knocks
Sometimes it feels so crushing that we shout
'More weight! More weight!' Pile some more stones on me,
as in 'The Crucible' with Giles Corey,
we call the doom down grimly to lights-out.
Or with Lear tempt 'the horrible pleasures'
of storms, with Gloucester leap brink of a small
dune imaging a death of direst measures
when only stony bruising will befall.
You set out your stall of fears, then you bark
at them and at yourself: that is the way
Play the brave; play the codded; play the fool.
The show is on for yet another day.
One dusk the curtain closes for a dark,
and no-more will life larn ya - no more school.
..
YOU ARE READING
Bare Shouldered
Poesia"The difference of high Sensations with and without knowledge appears to me this - in the latter case we are falling continually ten thousand fathoms deep and being blown up again without wings and with all [the] horror of a bare shouldered Creature...
