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Wednesday, April 28, 2004

Childhood's Appointment — Franz Wright


I am blind, but it seems to me the street meanders, it seems to
wish itself to sea.

But we're climbing now, I have come to stand on a great height
overlooking
the white city

silver mirror-glare of bay, of

the goodbye
against which nobody with pride would dare plead—

Here's hope you are well into your blessed summer

Cockroach befriended by the insane prisoner

At the wedding there weren't many guests

Visible ones, anyway

Then the beautiful hidden and infinite winter comes. . .

The closer I get to death, the more I love the earth, the thought
introduced itself as I sat shivering on my old park bench before
the dusk fog; as it has, I suppose, to every human being
who has ever lived
past forty.

A wingless, male, scared-looking angel of about sixteen—nobody
wants to see that

Prow of my father's bald unbuilt house parting the stars

# posted by will : 10:37 AM