By John Ashbery
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Extra resources for April galleons : poems
Thus, we are more formal this year, can escape Certain confrontations, obtain the release of certain compromised acquaintances Without looking at what they may have become, foil the plans of a few Middle-echelon apparatchiks until the day that finally does come to rest, busily, At your doorstep. Put it into a clean jar. Save it from the time which Has been, without promoting it too far beyond the Venetian blind of that Future’s early demise, in which we saw ourselves prefigured dimly and what would Happen to us scattered all over the ground like bruised rinds.
Save it from the time which Has been, without promoting it too far beyond the Venetian blind of that Future’s early demise, in which we saw ourselves prefigured dimly and what would Happen to us scattered all over the ground like bruised rinds. Only say what Cannot be done to us, for now, and keep us ever straying over the border into Insanity and back, and by then, becalmed, we shall know the superior discipline As something lived within us, something that magnetizes everything toward us. But beware the merely frivolous gesture, token of its own smile, which clamps One supremely to one’s own past, in which one is lost.
It’s safe around here though. Something In the darkness understands, tries to make up for it all. But it’s like a new disease, a resistant strain. Where were you when it was all happening? Night is full of kindred spirits now, Voices, photos of loved ones, faces Out of the newspaper, eager smiles blown like leaves Before they become fungus. No time to give credit Where it is due, though actions, as before, Speak louder than words. ” There were flowers in a garden once, Monkey business, shenanigans.
April galleons : poems by John Ashbery