Saturday, February 12, 2011

A Poem Beginning with a Line by Robert Duncan

"Great Death gives way         and unprepares us."*

When things fill up, they break.
Ice breaks. Why is it tragic
for masks to slip away?
All we can grasp are containers
that serve for a time
emptying their echo
- just as death gives way
to meaning, meaning
gives way to death;
it's all a matter of sizing
the tailor measuring out time and space
as if what is surrounding us could ever fit
as if there were bolts enough of light
to cover a human soul -
we grow like nine-years-old -
into what we already are.

* from "A Poem Beginning with a Line from Pindar - IV"

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