Thursday, January 06, 2011


(on my rioting lawns the plaster flamingos
endure your wonder)

                —Barbara Guest (Dido to Aeneas)

How, youth, such wisdom?   Is it so it becomes
or am I entranced into the bubble of it?   I like
to put someone in a school just for the resonance.
Music (life) isn’t just harmonicas and dulcimers.

But love will wrap you around a tree
almost every time.   And the well are never happy.
Approaching the sphinx with a riddle of your own
is far less tiresome than the delirium of nostalgia.

Maybe that’s the answer.   Any attempt to
resolve things is a bit too ominous, though,
don’t you think?   Maybe that’s the answer.   A
toppled vase dancing in the dusk-storm’s wind.