Caleb Cluff wrote:
> I saw this
>
> I saw this on a glistening ridge:
> two slender trees; and on the dappled sapling flesh
> an insect's heart, or lung, or eye; that part which
> is torn from the torturer's mind and discarded,
> like the mouthful of pit from a sweet stonefruit.
>
> The cicada sings four songs in summer:
> beckoning, seduction, distress and death.
> Three songs for others, and one for...
>
> For what?
>
> How marvellous,
>
> To sing while you are dying.
>
> Majorca, Vic.
> 22/11/06
>
The thing built from the grabber first line, the ending damn near
stopped my heart.
Ken
--
Ken Wolman andreachenier.net rainermaria.typepad.com
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For he purrs in thankfulness when God tells him he's a good Cat.
For he is an instrument for the children to learn benevolence upon.
For every house is incomplete without him, and a blessing is lacking in the spirit.
--from Christopher Smart, "Jubilate Agno"
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