by Sarah Manguso
I’m tired of looking at this blonde’s well-formed ass
but she sure can weed a garden.
Does she know I dream about her white eyelashes?
Does she know all ambition has the same source?
The gray bird describes a shape,
the deer bounces up a hill,
many animals walk on the earth and silence me.
Thanks, big-ass blonde.
Weed away! Let the light burn you,
the sun distract you from the blazing world!
For death is coming! And love will be new!
0 thoughts on “tired”
Freud would love this one
ahh, iâ€™m laughing my ass off (no pun intended) at the pic. Well chosen!
wow. this poem starts off rather simply then delves quickly into metaphysics leaving us with a few hints and clues for us to let sink in and wrap our minds around. Surely this is an awesome example of a poem one could read over and over and get different notions or ideas popping up each time. It sparks imagination and critical thinking.
I think beauty is a profound thing that can take hold of us and become our one and only guiding star. It can be our mainstay and our life in the moment of its presense. Beauty can twist us and make us tired when we become inundated and our desires shape it into a narrow selective rangeâ€“weâ€™d like to possess it and control it. We become agitated and lonely when we are away from it.
Thereâ€™s a lot more to this poem than what iâ€™ve expressed here. These are only a few of my thoughts and impressions.
Great poem! thx.