So here's a poem posted on Poetry Daily from one of my clan... what a trip. Not one of my favs but a hoot from a namesake, yes?
The Young
You bastards! It's all sherbet, and folly
makes you laugh like mules. Chances
dance off your wrists, each day ready,
sprites in your bones and spite not yet
swollen, not yet set. You gather handful
after miracle handful, seeing straight,
reaching the lighthouse in record time,
pockets brim with scimitar things. Now
is not a pinpoint but a sprawling realm.
Bewilderment and thrill are whip-quick
twins, carried on your backs, each vow
new to touch and each mistake a broken
biscuit. I was you. Sea robber boarding
the won galleon. Roaring trees. Machines
without levers, easy in bowel and lung.
One cartwheel over the quicksand curve
of Tuesday to Tuesday and you're gone,
summering, a ship on the farthest wave.
WHEN LOVE COMES TO TOWN: REFLECTIONS ON TENDERNESS IN A CHAOTIC CULTURE
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
-
There is a story about St. Francis and the Sultan - greatly embellished to be sure and often treated in apocryphal ways in the 2 1st centur... -
NOTE: Here are my Sunday worship notes for the Feast of the Epiphany. They are a bit late - in theory I wasn't going to do much work ...
1 comment:
ahh to be young again. this poem reminds me of "you damn kids have it easy! i had to walk up a hill both ways in the the snow without shoes on!"
bad thing is, i feel like this at 27! :-D
Post a Comment