History has to live with what was here,
clutching and close to fumbling all we had--
it is so dull and gruesome how we die,
unlike writing, life never finishes.
Abel was finished; death is not remote,
a flash-in-the-pan electrifies the skeptic,
his cows crowding like skulls against high-voltage wire,
his baby crying all night like a new machine.
As in our Bibles, white-faced, predatory,
the beautiful, mist-drunken hunter's moon ascends--
a child could give it a face: two holes, two holes,
my eyes, my mouth, between them a skull's no-nose--
O there's a terrifying innocence in my face
drenched with the silver salvage of the mornfrost.
beautiful; enjoyable poem penned
for my English lesson even tho I'm korean
i simply love your poems
i want to read history
History has to live with what was here, clutching and close to fumbling all we had-- yes that's true
So aptly worded,5 Stars Full since it is very true, True enjoyable poem. Congratulations being The Modern Poem Of The Day..
Terrifying innocence on my face...unveils the very core of the poem!
True poetry of the highest caliber. History is alive when we are dead.
A well expressed and perceptive write.
i like this poem very muchhh..... :)