Tuesday, February 25, 2014

Arachne Revisited

I have thee not, and yet I see thee still. 

And Darjeeling which is supposed to be like a light 
spring dance 

is bitter and cruel in my mouth. 

And I feel betrayed by my body's own humble 

and I seem not to grow more wise with time. 

I no longer have any quarrel with Arachne. 
She's not the only dumb cunt here. 

I thought I held something in my hand, 
once, too, 

I thought I owned 

and never do. 

Arachne: I am tired. 
Grief is a long country mile. 

Arachne, I am insufferably bad at 
almost everything. 

I forgive you, trapped behind a canvas,
looking like a lover (there's your trouble.)

Can you forgive me? 

I never meant it 

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