Tuesday, October 27, 2009

Echo

I’ll be leaving all the west we found.
The disparate parts that could not wish
will be as useless as underwear then,

and the pitch that felt up to me when I heard
the selfsoft love of the trueloved

will cast in its secondary range for something bitter:
a second choice to be far from home, among them.

2 comments:

yogacephalus said...

I'm still trying to figure out how to read these last two lines...

Ahab Cloud said...

Really, they need poems of their own... but I can't get there at the moment.