Friday, October 20, 2006

Two Poems by Anne Carson

EPITAPH: ZION


Murderous little world once our objects had gazes. Our lives
Were fragile, the wind

Could dash them away. Here lies the refugee breather
Who drank a bowl of elsewhere.




EPITAPH: ANNUNCIATION


Motion swept the world aside, aghast to white nerve nets.
Pray what

Shall I do with my six hundred wings? as blush feels
Slow, from inside.

1 Comments:

Blogger Edmond H Lee said...

Kick
ass.

5:25 PM  

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