Incendiary Lit

The Smiles of the Bathers

The smiles of the bathers fade as they leave the water,
And the lover feels sadness fall as it ends, as he leaves his love.
The scholar, closing his book as the midnight clock strikes, is hollow
and old:
The pilot’s relief on landing is no release.
These perfect and private things, walling us in, have imperfect and
public endings–
Water and wind and flight, remembered words and the act of love
Are but interruptions. And the world, like a beast, impatient and
quick,
Waits only for those who are dead. No death for you. You are
involved.

by Weldon Kees

–

The consumption by a project is a feeling I am altogether too familiar with, as are many people. The energy and excitement of that to-the-instant occupation, whether its the currency of a breast stroke, or in the swimmer’s case a flutter kick, the loss of that occupation allows the mind to settle back into the inevitabilities of life which is why on my IRS form I just wrote: No taxes, writing!

Posted: Sunday, September 20th, 2009 at 10:58 am
Category: Poems.