Crows, Too, Have a Means of Purring
May 1, 2010
May 1, 2010
CROWS, too, have a means of purring. Here is what they do.
They shuffle a deck of cards in their smoking guts.
I shall go into the earth, my child, though my path be blocked
With rocks the size of houses, with gymnasium-sized rocks.
Things subject to mere fashion will be ignored at the Final Judgment.
You will not be made to answer for your morality.
When people walk around naked, they all look like people I know.
My tutor taught me long ago that bodies are all the same.
“The male is caught in a cleft stick.” Better write thát one down.
Love remains sensual, though designed for seraphic;—
And even Madrid, gone to hell and back, can only be trusted
To be chaste insofar as it is consonant with his pride.
While we have you...
...we need your help. You might have noticed the absence of paywalls at Boston Review. We are committed to staying free for all our readers. Now we are going one step further to become completely ad-free. This means you will always be able to read us without roadblocks or barriers to entry. It also means that we count on you, our readers, for support. If you like what you read here, help us keep it free for everyone by making a donation. No amount is too small. You will be helping us cultivate a public sphere that honors pluralism of thought for a diverse and discerning public.
May 01, 2010