well, how can i tell you to pirouette
with shackles set in stone—
a hold, as brilliant as cold, grapple-firm
yet affords wildly fantastic comfort; abundantly
phony pabulum for (needful) soul.
amalgam of cohort and villain:
lover and rival; a confidante
and a foe;
while neither Balanchine nor gifted
with the Golden Mean of Apollo?
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4 comments:
Sometimes we are bound, and to hear "fly, be free, live, soar", is almost cruel. And yet we must find ways to give wing to joy, even in our confinement.
I don't think I really ever left the first two lines.
we must, Annie ...
awesome, Noxy! sun and moon, balance and imbalance ... inner contradiction and extremes poised beautifully for whatever's next, whatever we can make real of our crazy dreams to dance like/with gods...
i absolutely adore this poem *sigh
S
hello Shell ... and may this year be one in which we do not have to measure anything as better or worse ... i hope it just "is" and fraught with happiness ... Happy New Year, dear friend ...
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