Friday, January 23, 2009

The worst of grief sets in some time after the initial shock.

Pour the unhappiness out
From your too bitter heart,
Which grieving will not sweeten.

Poison grows in this dark.
It is in the water of tears
Its black blooms rise.

The magnificent cause of being,
The imagination, the one reality
In this imagined world

Leaves you
With him for whom no phantasy moves,
And you are pierced by a death.
Another Weeping Woman by Wallace Stevens.


peaitlreiecnia said...

i love this!

all the other bits of poetry you've found are quite good too

Anonymous said...

Calvin said...

Thanks pea. I hope to keep adding more that you enjoy!