Sunday, April 27, 2008

The Fist

Derek Walcott

The fist clenched round my heart
loosens a little, and I gasp
brightness; but it tightens
again. When have I ever not loved
the pain of love? But this has moved

past love to mania. This has the strong
clench of the madman, this is
gripping the ledge of unreason, before
plunging howling into the abyss.

Hold hard then, heart. This way at least you live.


erica said...

i tagged you for a 6 word memoir on my blog, to be posted wherever you feel is thematically or contextually appropriate.

dan said...

6 word memoir

lo que es, nao es nada

whatever it is, it's not nothing.

Amy, Marie, Ethan ... I'll have to figure out some other bloggers later.

dan said...

on the poem:

I'm not necessarily an advocate of psychosis, but I think the poem is pretty good.