Wednesday, May 13, 2009
a sense of what is not
He remembers what the brown owl sounded like while he was sleeping.
The man wakes in the frigid morning thinking about women.
Not with desire so much as with a sense of what is not.
Many days in the woods he wonders what it is that he has for so long hunted down. We go hand in hand, he thinks, into the dark pleasure,
but we are rewarded alone, just as we are married into aloneness.
"Not the Happiness but the Consequence of Happiness," Jack Gilbert
[Damen Avenue below Cortez Street]
- ► 2011 (107)
- ► 2010 (115)
- keep this coupon
- follow you home
- a perfect subject
- love an empty airport
- rarely-beloved a single star is uttered
- the shadow that everything casts
- it is this that the darkness is for!
- matter don't mind
- win winn
- second-hand satisfaction, half-souled
- no such place as brooklyn
- obituary, i like that word
- no one owns life
- a sense of what is not
- shame followed
- the greatest of these
- only a voice
- without grace
- One-three-hundredth of the Icelandic population
- the only sound that's left
- but now we cannot
- laughed inside her laughter
- some good in you
- ▼ May (29)