It should be such
Tantalus-like good fortune
if coming so close
ends so soon.
And yet it is experience
which speaks,
‘These things happen.’
As an Echo reaches
out for Narcissus
but fallen on petals
the advances
go unheard.
The fly at screen door
smelling honey
And salt humid
in shaker
stuck in one clump
Electricity with nowhere
to ground
Iconoclasts
feeling the constraints
of suburbia
The new translation
no better than the rest begins-
“Of arms and the man I sing”
This is a poem from Enter The After-Garde: Selections from 1998-2010
available for Kindle Sunday February 10th.
February 9th, 2013 at 10:31 pm
Lovely,
February 9th, 2013 at 10:32 pm
Thank you.
February 11th, 2013 at 5:17 pm
I really like this poem so much. A lot of imagery and vivid thoughts are running through my mind…Excellent!
My New Blog: Our Virtue Smells like Jazz-Tampons. http://charliezero1.wordpress.com/2013/02/11/our-virtue-smells-like-jazz-tampons/ Your inputs are most appreciated.
February 14th, 2013 at 12:43 am
This poem fairly seethes with frustration. The phrasing promotes this using rich metaphor and – I think – the conclusion indicates that it goes on and on without resolution. A lovely lyrical riddle that I enjoyed reading. Well done.