Sunday, January 13, 2013

Poetry of This Kind

When will you 
learn to understand that every word is a
closure, every word a mere reminder of a 
hopeless memoir that could have been. There's
no longer a poetry of illusion, not even love's
auld poetry of assured happiness, only a certain 
a kind of poetry has hit my taste, one that I find
in dogs, one that I've found in every carnivore which
is resolved to eat out of hunger, but then eats more,
out of greed. Throw a piece of chicken to a dog and
see how it eats. Watch it tear! Watch it bite! 
Watch it chew! Nothing exists for it anymore,
not even Time. When the flesh is gone and the 
white revealed, wait as it settles down for a 
love making of a longue duree. It licks and sucks and
sucks and licks until, the white, supple with all the 
sucking splits in a single bite and the dog
in a final act of vengeance bites more ravenously
into the white, this time well assured of a salty
after-taste when it has licked the marrows off,
and in one swift sweep of the universe 
the crumbs are gone too.

Now Playing::Hum hain rahi pyaar ke........Kishore Kumar

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Good one..