Or, as John Ashbery put it (in "Europe" section 10, in
The Tennis Court Oath, 1962)--
"He had mistaken his book for garbage"
On Dec 8, 2005, at 2:33 PM, Jon Corelis wrote:
> Love the wild swan
>
> by Robinson Jeffers
>
>
> "I hate my verses, every line, every word.
> Oh pale and brittle pencils ever to try
> One grass-blade's curve, or the throat of one bird
> That clings to twig, ruffled against white sky.
> Oh cracked and twilight mirrors ever to catch
> One color, one glinting flash, of the splendor of things.
> Unlucky hunter, Oh bullets of wax,
> The lion beauty, the wild-swan wings, the storm of the wings."
> -This wild swan of a world is no hunter's game.
> Better bullets than yours would miss the white breast,
> Better mirrors than yours would crack in the flame.
> Does it matter whether you hate your . . . self? At least
> Love your eyes that can see, your mind that can
> Hear the music, the thunder of the wings. Love the wild swan.
>
Hal Art & Plastic Surgery
Halvard Johnson
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