----- Original Message -----
From: "Laura Heidy" <[log in to unmask]>
To: <[log in to unmask]>
Sent: Sunday, May 27, 2007 11:10 AM
Subject: Sunday AM Snap
>
>
>
> Ill Fated
>
> So shall I choose to die as young men die -
> inside the car when death meets dash and grins
> his rictus grin - or crouched in sand too far
> from home and suddenly aware that no one wins -
> or on a street where bullets know my name and why
> I'm there and for one brief and brilliant flash
> I'll be the only star that lights the city sky?
>
> Or shall I choose to live as old man live -
> with palsied limbs and shuffling gait - with eyes
> grown dim and ears grown deaf - my mind a sieve
> that cannot hold unto the truths or lies
> which I've held dear no matter how I try and try -
> With skipping heart and stiffened lungs
> that even drugs will not quite manage to disguise?
>
> I fear free will is just the final ruse.
> There is no choice nor shall I choose.
Rhythms clunky; some archaisms and unnecessary repetition. Suggest:
Perhaps I'll die as young men die -
in a car when death meets dash and grins
his rictus; crouched in sand too far
from home not to discover no one wins,
or on a road where roadside bombs know why
I'm there and make me for one brilliant moment
the only star that lights the city sky.
Or I may choose to live as old men live,
with shaking limbs and shuffling step, with eyes
grown dim, ears bored - unable now to give
credence to any of the truths or lies
I have held dear no matter how I try;
and skipping heart and stiffened lungs,
and grief no pill can manage to disguise.
Free will is just the final ruse.
There is no choice, nor shall I choose.
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