from Our Masterpiece Is the Private Life III Mark Strand |
STANDING on the quay between the Roving Swan and Star Immaculate, Breathing the night air as the moment of pleasure taken In pleasure vanishing seems to grow, its self-soiling Beauty, which can only be what it was, sustaining itself A little longer in its going, I think of our own smooth passage Through the graded partitions, the crises that bleed Into the ordinary, leaving us a little more tired each time, A little more distant from the experiences, which, in the old days, Held us captive for hours. The drive along the winding road Back to the house, the sea pounding against the cliffs, The glass of whiskey on the table, the open book, the questions, All the day's rewards waiting at the doors of sleep... Blizzard of One, Alfred A. Knopf, 1998 |
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