Monday, February 6, 2012

Calvino told me that I better get used to reflections;
A reliance on metaphors confirms this.

It is as though we write the same poem endlessly
To ourselves, only we try to cover it up by
Changing our words around.

We weigh nothing. Weight comes from the outside.
They put it on us. They shovel us full of concrete,
Which without we would merely float into the sun.

Calvino, lightness, you know what I'm saying,
Dont you?
The ghost is weightless, except for her anguish.
~pjc jr 2/6/12

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