
May 23, 2018
Share:
Image: Berkshire Community College Bioscience Image Library
Don’t blame the wisteria for setting off a feeling like freedom a feeling like joy.
We watched the people walking in the open square—
one of them was a specialist in killing, fear was the way of others.
I’ve seen the most extraordinary thing about people, their faces.
Don’t blame the wisteria for setting off a feeling like freedom a feeling like joy.
We watched the people walking in the open square—
one of them was a specialist in killing, fear was the way of others.
I’ve seen the most extraordinary thing about people, their faces.
Remember the trees in springtime, we ate candy beneath them,
shouts from the playground, static of yellowjackets, your fresh new haircut.
Here’s a tweeted canto, some words for the end of the world—
for when I am forever nothing, and you are.
We’ll lose to gravity dark and pure—
beyond what can be replenished beyond
what can be beyond, a plot of nerves gone under.
But we were lustrous from time to time,
in a garden in a city in a wood melodious with pine.
Blur of speech in the gullet, gale of want in the throat.
O you who want to slaughter us, we’ll be dead soon enough what’s the rush
and this our only world.
Woke up warm tomorrow in a spot of sun.
A flesh. A wild alive all only.
Now bring me a souvenir from the desecrated city,
something tender, something that might bloom.
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 23, 2018