I like a look of agony,
Because I know it's true;
brittanymarie.neocities.org
poetry fragments
(...) she strangely rears on her perch in the
air, vast beast,
And strangely paws the air, delicate,
And reaches her black-striped face up like a snake, far up,
Subtly, to the twigs overhead, far up, vast beast,
And snaps them sharp, with a little twist of her anaconda
head;
All her great hairy-shaggy belly open against the morning.
Suddenly on a wall mirror
my face assaulted me
stunned to see itself
I thought there were limits to this falling away,
This emptiness. I was wrong.
The sky is made for hawks.
Their screams come from deep inside,
a long glistening vein
pulled from my gut, stretched into sound.
Yesterday I watched one
take a rabbit
and felt no sentiment. I, too,
want to sink into something soft,
tear and rend, all that
tenderness ripped apart,
the rabbit - my heart -
with its leaps and sudden terror.
I don't know what to do.
I think yes - and then no.
I wish that there were some wonderful place
Called the Land of Beginning Again,
Where all our mistakes and all our heartaches
And all of our poor selfish grief
Could be dropped like a shabby old coat at the door,
And never be put on again.
Fire will envelop me
yet I won't burn
My Guardian Angel? Yes, indeed. I've known
I've had one all along - felt certain she
Was watching me - was watching over me;
Guiding each forward step, and if a stone
Stood in my path she smiled and it was gone.
I think I could turn and live with animals, they are
so placid and self-contain'd;
I stand and look at them long and long.
They do not sweat and whine about their condition;
They do not lie awake in the dark and weep for their
sins;