Russell Edson

(1935 - 2014 / Connecticut, United States)

Angels - Poem by Russell Edson

They have little use. They are best as objects of torment.
No government cares what you do with them.

Like birds, and yet so human . . .
They mate by briefly looking at the other.
Their eggs are like white jellybeans.

Sometimes they have been said to inspire a man
to do more with his life than he might have.
But what is there for a man to do with his life?

. . . They burn beautifully with a blue flame.

When they cry out it is like the screech of a tiny hinge;
the cry of a bat. No one hears it . . .


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Read poems about / on: sometimes, life, angel



Poem Submitted: Monday, January 13, 2003



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