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Easy
Let’s hold it easy.
Clouds. Water. Rain.
No strong geometry.
No historical past of the Trojan Wars.
Mild the candle
however go away flame
to soften wax by itself.
Open a window
however don’t encourage the breeze
a technique or one other.
Nothing holy.
Philosophy be damned.
The clouds are so stuffed with water,
they can’t assist however rain.
Pitter-patter on the roof,
down the window,
splashes, puddles, on the bottom.
Generally, as with love,
it’s the very nature.
Parade of Guilt
I dug my identify into the jowls
of the statue of a Accomplice soldier.
I stood after I was presupposed to kneel.
When the hippie chick wasn’t wanting,
I spat on her incense candle.
I as soon as instructed a naturalist,
“I hate bats. They don’t need to stay.”
I discover beat poetry boring.
True notion has by no means been straightforward for me.
Obsession, then again…
I’ve clung to beliefs lengthy after they have been confirmed unfaithful.
I’ve illusions.
I frighten simply.
I’ve written propaganda
and I’ve unfold bullshit on fertile floor.
I’ve been grasping and awkward
and I’ve made remarks on different folks’s hairstyles,
which is the peak of irony coming from me.
I didn’t know what a sphincter was
till I used to be 15,
nor may I discover Cambodia on a map at that age,
or understood something that supposedly
got here out of the mouth of Lord Buddha.
I had no thought why anybody would shave their head.
I nonetheless don’t.
I take advantage of a fork when a spoon makes extra sense.
There’ve been girls in my life
that I can solely keep in mind bare.
I want a sizzling bathe to dialog.
I eat meat although I do know it’s actually flesh
and it belongs on an animal.
I write poetry although I do know
I’m encroaching, it’s personal,
and it’s not at all times my story to inform.
On the Uffizi
Can’t analyze artwork.
Utilized math but it surely refused to quantify.
Put physics to the check,
however artwork refused to bend to
its all-inclusive, unbendable guidelines.
Behind me, a voice asks,
“What about biology?”
Artwork is bulging with one thing,
but it surely’s not carbon-based.
It doesn’t reply to chemistry.
The numbers can’t clarify
Botticelli’s “Venus.”
Even the poet struggles,
so what hope has the scientist?
Response is as variegated as religion,
as a diamond.
It’s just like the roadmap
of some unfamiliar territory.
It suggests 1,000 routes,
none of which take you to
the place you need to be.
Right here I’m in Florence
on the Uffizi gallery,
a vacationer, half of an equation—
myself on one aspect,
a masterpiece on the opposite,
and the entire thing is tilting
however not in the direction of me.
My glasses fog.
Formulation are nugatory.
Neither can address genius.
Why not simply say,
“The hell with it.
The lady is a goddess.
She’s an excellent high-stakes creature
wanting down from a wall
at a low-stakes sort of man.”
Greatest simply be love-drunk.
The extra alcoholic the sensation,
the much less it tells me lies.
Why I Can’t Love You
I’m this physique. The climate doesn’t care,
nor do the wants of others.
It complains of the space it has come.
It may possibly think about the lifeless as residing and the residing as lifeless.
It’s been to the rim of its personal dying and again.
This morning, it’s a bone bag awaiting contemporary solar.
It has an appointment someplace within the busy metropolis.
Its breath smells of snails.
It wakes, shaking, anxious to be exterior.
Its arms fake there’s something to carry,
grasp skinny air.
Only a reflex motion, I guarantee you.
It’s not indicators of a selected craving.
That is how my physique operates.
It adheres to the right steadiness. Love can not.
It operates on the sting of others.
It is aware of that even respiratory is a danger.
There was a time when the air in its lungs turned to sighs,
and fingers turned touching into affection,
but it surely has duties to carry out.
Emotions solely get in the way in which.
It can not give up itself
and nonetheless carry out all its features.
It’s going to sometime contract one thing deadly,
so why encourage fatality now?
«RELATED READ» POEMS BY OLIVIA HAJIOFF: Limbo, Entire, The Spinning Man»
picture: Elliott Brown (Cropped from unique)
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