Saturday, July 11, 2015

DIAPHANOUS VEILS BLOW FOUL & ILL WINDS, ON AN OTHERWISE BEAUTIFUL DAY


I'm taking them down.
Deleting them.
I've heard
The Greek chorus:
"Sometimes
second thoughts
are best."
Besides--
no longer
is there a point to prove.
A puppeteer needs
a puppet
made of wood
or old socks,
has buttons
for eyes
or straw
for innards,
not something
that really does
breathe.
Knowing how
I've danced
on the end
of your strings
has made me sick
to my stomach.
I'd like revenge
but not this way.
To see your mania
& feel your unease
brought a smile
to my face
while my soul,
the little I have left,
shriveled & wept.

If the work
as a whole
ever gets held
between covers--
be it
by my hand
or others--
OK.
But doing it
this way
is cheating.
It lessens
not who we are--
because we never
were much--
but something
more important:
the craft
of turning
the shit
of living
into smaller,
more digestible,
bite sized
end products
we so conveniently
call "art."

Norman Savage
Greenwich Village, 2015

No comments:

Post a Comment