Spoils, Dividing

Spoils, Dividing

Spoils, Dividing

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A weekly poem, read by the author.
Feb. 9 2000 3:30 AM

Spoils, Dividing

Thank you for asking--
yes,
I have thought on the soul,

I have decided
it should not be faulted for
its indifference: that is as it

must be.
How blame
the lantern whose limits

always are only the light of
itself, casting the light
out?

That the body enjoys
some moment
in that light, I regard

as privilege.

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              Say what
you will.

The hawk's shadow

darkening

the zeroed-in-upon prey,

the victim

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classically becoming

quite still--

 

              It is very
like that. Having
understood which, I admit to

--also--the body as mere
story
whose ending,

like the story itself, is
small--how
not to think, for a time, that it

is not finished,

                  though it
is finished--

The ending was always this one.
Prediction,
gift,

science.
What shines now doesn't, won't
in our lifetime

stop shining--

                 no
I turned away.