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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=476533" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Crazy, Sunny Day Outside, Blue Sky</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Crazy, sunny day outside, blue sky, <br>and my shadow's got me in a choke-hold <br>so I can barely breathe. I'm wrestling <br>with the black angel in the way, my own vacuity, <br>the absurdity of the burning gate that affronts my emptiness.<br>I'm in a truce with a room that tolerates me well enough. <br>Sometimes a hush falls over it like a nuclear winter<br>or somebody's about to read a poem, <br>but it's got big windows, and it's safer <br>living above people than it is on eye-level<br>and I don't mean that in any kind of way <br>except everyone's afraid and that's when <br>they're at their most dangerous. But you can <br>see them coming from afar off from a second storey. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Most days I've got a fix on what I'm doing. <br>I follow the star in my eye. Portable north. <br>I lay my strange gifts of refuse and lucidity <br>on the temple stairs of a goddess I'm beginning <br>to lose my faith in, and as far as I can tell they're cherished.<br>Wonder what it would be like to send a muse packing for once. <br>Ungenderize inspiration, be the wellspring, instead<br>of drawing from it with a desert at your back<br>eyeing you from the crests of the sand dunes.<br>But how would you get the flavour of sex <br>into a bottle of water without it <br>souring into a message for help? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Even the salmon-flaked brick walls <br>of the chic boutique across the street <br>that caters to witches and fairies, seem bleak<br>behind their facade, with a darkness fairies can't people.<br>Utter black, impenetrable, unregenerative, <br>and every petal of sunshine, trivially epiphenomenal, <br>every gust of stars that wheels into a galaxy <br>like the evolutionary emergence of birds, <br>neither the cause nor the effect of anything cognizant. <br>Life just the flimsiest of distractions<br>on the skin of a bubble walking on thorns.<br>There's a black hole in my heart <br>that's lapping blood from the rose.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I'm trying to upgrade my eyes to be able to relate to it. <br>I'm cloning eclipses out of the stem cells of the night.<br>I'm grinding lenses out of anthracite, colour cones <br>without irises or chromatically aberrated rainbows.<br>I'm transplanting the eyes of all my dead flowers <br>with black diamonds on the same wavelength <br>as the X-ray star I can sense shining behind everything <br>that ever mattered to me, to achieve some kind <br>of nefarious harmony with the unilluminated doorway <br>that is neither the exit nor the entrance of being.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Everybody seems mesmerized by the temperance of the day, <br>all the things they've seen before, they're looking at again, <br>as if the light could ever be new in yesterday's eyes, <br>but I'm inside the seeing like a dragonfly in a chrysalis <br>trying to pass through this black hole <br>into an entirely new world that isn't<br>just another sketchy metaphor for this one.<br>I want to see the roots the blossom's wired to <br>if at all. Or if it's just one big disconnect <br>and all understanding is playing unplugged<br>like a downed powerline with the oracular powers<br>of a snake-oil salesman selling holy water to the fish. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Disoriented in the starlessness of the blazing afternoon, <br>I'm waiting like an image of the imageless<br>for the darkness to adjust to my eyes as if this time <br>it was up to God to get used to me, and evolve accordingly<br>and there were no other recourse for getting around me <br>except creatively. Except to tell the Hox genes <br>where to put your eyes, where to fit your mouth <br>in that lifemask that disguises you like a surrealistic scar<br>grappling with experience with nothing but your innocence <br>to fall back on for an alibi no one accepts when you lose. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Farewell to all that. Evolution can take its cue <br>from me for a change, and branch out dendritically <br>like a flash of lightning rooted in my starmud like a cedar fire <br>sweeping underground through the valley I just passed through <br>like the mirage of a waterbird through <br>a shapeshifting hourglass of stars<br>that are not fixed, but protean myth givers responsive<br>to the darkest insights of the human imagination<br>that doesn't create worlds in the likeness <br>of a preconceived image but each to their own medium<br>turns the light around on them like a revelation <br>of what they conceal like a jewel of water in their eyes.</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=476533" data-title="Crazy, Sunny Day Outside, Blue Sky de Patrick White" data-description="Crazy, sunny day outside, blue sky, 
and my shadow's got me in a choke-hold 
so I can barely breathe. I'm wrestling 
with the black angel in the way, my own vacuity, 
the absurdity of the burning gate that affronts my emptiness.
I'm in a truce wit..."></div>
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