Showing posts with label Paol Keineg. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Paol Keineg. Show all posts

Thursday, October 24, 2024


PAOL KEINEG
"D"

Down from the web in the thorns glides a spider
with fur the color of weeds. Here I am. Desire
to please to which one adds desire to die. All
that comes from above makes things obscure.
All that, obscure, is tied up in a motion which
wrenches the heart. To take it is to pervert
it. This is why the entire poem is for another
day. I have not taken hold: the wild broom
flames near the telephone booth, a woman
talks crushing the receiver against her ear,
I remain incapable of high thought. To grow
old does not snuff out the scruples.