poem I rummaged up (summer 2009) (very perplexing)
...
the big nose
Life is a big nose—
a too big
and rife with danger
“Poetry Is My Country
and I Canst Not Change Her”
nose
In some hour of need where the flowers grew
God bless those blanketed by snow
God bless the snows that lie atop our sparrow;
what use was its nose?
But in my hour of need when I plant the seed
the warmful air is stirred by sparrow’s wing (offering);
I inhale the country of the poetry,
I inhale it when it snows
but life is not worth living for;
you live it for the nose
...
you guys noses are not even that great
Perplexing, but also fascinating. A personal question, perhaps, but do you remember what was running through your head when you wrote this?
ReplyDeleteIf my memory doesn't deceive me, I believe it was in winter when (as an earlier version of the poem includes) "the smell [of snow] is nothingness or death"; it was probably revelling in the slightest bit of "life" one could smell, or something.
ReplyDeleteI do find the "you live it for the nose" fascinating...