Anthony Weir

Rookie (13th September 1941)

The Empty House - Poem by Anthony Weir

We are always having and wanting to have
more than that we wanted to have
and had not - so always we do
in order to compensate for what
others did or did not do to or for us
And we have no peace to be
may never have been at all
living our lives without being
always blocking each other
making war on ourselves, each other,
the world
trying to blot out the wanting
by doing and having.
We all move in the same mad direction
away from ourselves, away from being
ourselves, being animals, being voyagers,
being.

The smell of my armpit is ocean
In it I can learn to be.

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Poem Submitted: Friday, May 5, 2006



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