Something in this delightful poem, Knut, takes me back to some poems by
Robert Graves that I haven't read for decades. But behind it for you is no
doubt much else. By the way, last line, my school rule was 'between two',
'among, or amongst three or more'. But that too was a long time ago.
best wishes from Max in Melbourne
on 16/11/05 11:07 PM, Knut Mork Skagen at [log in to unmask] wrote:
> Worship
>
>
> Small gods die easily.
> They nestle in pockets, or shoes
> left out on the porch
>
> to dry. A wrong turn
> in the conversation, a hand
> shoved into a garment,
>
> steering out from the drive
> onto the morning's black ice
> spell and they are squashed
>
> without blood, without
> complaint. I had a whole
> collection, once.
>
> They couldn't throw
> thunderbolts from the shelf
> over my bed, nor
>
> sport heavenly beards
> that tickled me to sleep
> but they were good
>
> listeners. Nodded
> in agreement. Spoke Greek
> between themselves.
>
>
>
> Knut Mork Skagen, Trondheim, 16. Nov 2005
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