an additional selection from
The Disappearing Poet Blues
by Marc
Hudson
After a Painting by Diego Rivera
1
Imagine!
A man bent double by flowers
great, open throated calla lilies, no less.
Ah, the burdens of poetry.
2
So it was one afternoon
when she came by
with her white shoulders all bare,
I was brought to my knees by beauty
and try as I might
I can never rise in this life again.
3
Into that wilderness of sorrows
I have walked a few paces
following the man of thorns,
but have gone no further
these several years.
I can believe his suffering,
the spikes, the hard blows
as if they were laying track with his body
into the twentieth century.
His release, I can't believe.
Why can't we admit
the project of love
broke him
as it would you or me?
What
are your thoughts?
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