I sleep so much that i lose the sense of what's real
what is living
my head is dizzy, my ears burn
i open the window to ventilate myself
the moon is shy behind massive clouds
of a grey so dark i confound it with the night
the fresh wind on my cheeks takes away my fever
and the appealing lights urge me to travel
in straight line on agile feet
comes a disanchanted thought
reality is too much for myself alone
i will miss a warm place to welcome me
and a comprehensive guide along the way
...
an unspeakable flash of arms as a home
"reality is a terrible down"
RépondreSupprimerI can't remember in which poem I read this, but this line stayed with me. It was either from Grace Paley or May Swenson.
I want to be your guide...
oh! it's from the poem "Having Dinner" by Grace Paley, I see I posted it some days ago with that line as the title.
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