« Home | why i love faulkner the sharp and brittle crack a... » | spacialk, dreaming of a better life » | I went to the worst of bars hoping to get killed... » | a frigid wind was blowing in off lake erie, and ev... » | this blog was an accident of mouse clicks. but it'... » | francesco clemente, grisaille self portrait, 1998... » 

27 February 2006 

He built four houses
to keep his life.
Three got away
before he was old.

He wonders now
rocking his chair
should he have built
a boat

dipping, dipping
and sitting so.

Van Gogh could see
twenty-seven varieties
of black
in cap-

I knew a clean man
but he was not for me.
Now I sew green aprons
over covered seats. He

wades the muddy water fishing,
falls in, dries his last pay-check
in the sun, smooths it out
in Leaves of Grass. He's
the one for me.

O my floating life
Do not save love
for things
Throw things
to the flood

by the flood
Leave the new unbought-
all one in the end-

Lorine Niedecker