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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=476502" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Beauty In The Aloofness Of My Usual Sorrows</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Beauty in the aloofness of my usual sorrows. <br>A respite in time and care. A hole in space <br>I can escape through without setting off any alarms. <br>And I don't care what this poem is going to be about <br>I can write it with no preconceived deceptions, <br>no utilitarian intent, no split lip ego-defects. <br>For a moment, the ice age is thawing <br>and the blue chicory and English ox-eyed daisies<br>like the taste of the air, and the drainage-ditches <br>are a riot of Queen Ann's Lace and Viper's Bugloss.<br>Temperate consolations modify my mood <br>into a truce with the bleaker conditions of life. <br>I'm gulled by the sunshine. I'm a schill of the mindstream. <br>The killer bees are away from their hives. <br>Amber tears of Baltic honey flow in my veins <br>without attracting flies. Life is unconscionably reasonable<br>in the efflorescence of its mystically specific details. <br>Even my dragon skull basks in the beatific wavelengths <br>of a better attitude toward its own martyrdom <br>in the greener fires of earth like salt in a flame. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And later tonight, if I'm still so entranced, <br>I'll make my way down to the Tay River <br>to see if the fireflies are out dancing pianissimo <br>with the abandoned lighthouses of the stiff-necked cattails. <br>I'll sit on a rock that doesn't aspire to lord it over <br>anyone's kingdom, and I'll stare at the stars <br>until they're tattooed like an indelible starmap<br>on the back of my eyelids, to keep my tears <br>from diluting them like smeared watercolours<br>or my more igneous aspects, from shattering them <br>like the menagerie of a zoo with glass bars. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And o, basking in the freedom of my own madness, <br>hilarious as peace, the infinite homelessness <br>of knowing I come from everywhere all at once, <br>and there's nowhere I've walked alone in my life <br>down any road beset with assassins, or feathered <br>like strippers in boas of white sweet clover, <br>I haven't been stepping across the threshold <br>of another wilderness always as vast<br>and cautiously intriguing as I am mysteriously lost<br>when the human intimacy of a longing heart <br>encounters the sentient impersonality <br>of an infinite mind that isn't aware of anything <br>the heart doesn't bring before it like a child's drawing. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And there are themes you can follow <br>like bush wolves through the back woods <br>trampled down by the padding of their circuitous descents <br>into the dangerous pantries of the farms<br>pseudomorphically nestled between the hills. <br>It's an itinerary that's serviced the pack for years<br>with a sufficiency that's got them this far against the odds. <br>And each to their own way, go with the gods<br>and I'll rejoice in hearing you howl among the trees <br>to the chagrin of your detractors listening <br>with a begrudging admiration a civilization away <br>from what's been bred out of them like freedom <br>under a full moon in heat. As for me<br>and my homeless approach to the ghost towns <br>of future zodiacs, I never want to know where I'm going <br>until I get there inconceivably as the only path<br>I could have taken in the first place, <br>because that's always the way it is <br>even when you delight in the wiles of going astray. <br>Signs of your emptiness in the midst of the great unknowing. <br>Time and space mindscaping the exploration <br>you keep thrusting into the dark like the light and the lamp<br>of an estranged nightwatchman, hoping <br>you haven't been here before, and anything<br>worth keeping an eye on has already been given away for free.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Patrick+White">Patrick White</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=476502" data-title="Beauty In The Aloofness Of My Usual Sorrows de Patrick White" data-description="Beauty in the aloofness of my usual sorrows. 
A respite in time and care. A hole in space 
I can escape through without setting off any alarms. 
And I don't care what this poem is going to be about 
I can write it with no preconceived deceptions, ..."></div>
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