These gently awoke water color thoughts of oceans that reflect why
those bad ones need be.
Sent from my iPhone
On Mar 6, 2010, at 8:02 AM, Frederick Pollack <[log in to unmask]>
wrote:
> “Tea Party”
>
>
> If I look very firm,
> bad people will go. If I smile
> as blandly and kindly
> as I can, good people will
> acknowledge me, clasp
> my shoulder. Then the good people
> will chase the bad people
> into the desert beyond
> the border, where they will die.
> (Their ghosts will gaze longingly
> at us, gnashing their teeth.)
> Or we shall wall them off
> in their bad places. Meanwhile, there’s so much
> to read! To discover at once
> the limitlessness of fear and
> the will. And so much art
> to be made, so many messages to send!
> Some wear the tricorne hat and blue
> coat of virtue. (They’re a bit crazy.)
> The Joker’s rotting face was due
> to his not being really white. You understand.
> And suddenly so much history,
> lurking at our fingertips! Hitler, the Rothschilds!
> Knowledge is power. Untaxed, we shall live
> in castles on prairies
> with Christ in every heart, and the great and just
> avenging missiles flying.
> I may not live to see it but my fetus will.
>
>
>
>
> View of the Water
>
>
> Beyond the retaining wall,
> the sea is unusually clear:
> outlines of buildings, stubs of docks,
> the unrecoverable streets
> all visible from here,
> colloidal bubbles rising here and there.
> It looks like the clients
> have decided to take three apartments
> on the fiftieth floor, remove walls. The agent
> stands with them on a balcony.
> The air is fresh, the mood
> relaxed in the way that comes
> when drawbacks and their costs have been agreed
> and postures put aside,
> and parties are briefly one
> in their reluctance to proceed
> with the day. The agent sinks
> into his native observant heaviness.
> He could have asked for more.
> They aren’t suffering.
> The wife seems marginally
> more alert. Both are on something,
> and with those veils they wear
> can hardly be told apart.
> Not merely rich but connected, they travel,
> know other cities. He wonders whether
> they see him as part of local color
> and how they’d react to what he lives in.
> The husband checks the time in his brain.
> The realtor straightens, looks down
> at puddles beneath
> the wall and scuttling
> people the size of rats the size of men.
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