This another sort
of entrapment–
the weight of ought
and should
even now even
here waking so late
to a colorless sky
and still-bare branches
backlit and immobile
I went to stake the peas
with sticks to try
to gather and balance
things now well beyond
reason now well past
care even the hermit
juncos stopping
to observe
my shoddy weaving–
silence and mania
in this setting
of a rescinded spring
of days that can’t even
bring themselves
to dawn– if longing
is a sickness
and love is a fever
what then
is their absence?
What then
is the cure?
(147)
Oh my goodness, so beautiful and sad. My heart aches reading this, I can feel it, well done…
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Thanks, glad it resonated with you!
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the poem is different not many people can write like this.Margaret Atwood wrote in a similar manner.It’s really good. :>
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Thank you, and thank you for reminding me of Atwood’s poetry, perfect reading for tonight
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hey could you check out my blog pleasehttps://catchywordz.wordpress.com/2010/06/30/pakindustan/
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I like this
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Thanks!
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