Pour the unhappiness outAnother Weeping Woman by Wallace Stevens.
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.
Friday, January 23, 2009
The worst of grief sets in some time after the initial shock.
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3 comments:
i love this!
all the other bits of poetry you've found are quite good too
:)
http://i44.tinypic.com/153b4ae.jpg
Thanks pea. I hope to keep adding more that you enjoy!
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