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...and maybe this, too
the heart
for pen
in the construction
of the chest, there is
a heart.
a boat
upon its blood
floats past
and round or down
the stream of life,
the plummeting veins
permit its passage
to admit no gains,
no looking back.
one steps aboard,
one's off.
the ticket taker
signs the time allotted.
seated, amorphous persons
see no scenery
but feel
a chill about their knees
and hear a fading cry
as all the many sides of life
whiz by,
a blast at best, a loss
of individual impressions.
still i sit
with you inside me too—
and us
the couple thus encoupled,
ride on into the sweetening dark.
© robert creeley
from if i were writing this
for pen
in the construction
of the chest, there is
a heart.
a boat
upon its blood
floats past
and round or down
the stream of life,
the plummeting veins
permit its passage
to admit no gains,
no looking back.
one steps aboard,
one's off.
the ticket taker
signs the time allotted.
seated, amorphous persons
see no scenery
but feel
a chill about their knees
and hear a fading cry
as all the many sides of life
whiz by,
a blast at best, a loss
of individual impressions.
still i sit
with you inside me too—
and us
the couple thus encoupled,
ride on into the sweetening dark.
© robert creeley
from if i were writing this
no subject
Cute, and lovely.
Thanks for sharing.
no subject