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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=476624" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>I Could Look At It With Sweeter Eyes</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I could look at it with sweeter eyes. <br>The way boys and cowards romanticize war. <br>I could emphasize the honeysuckle and fireflies.<br>I could say that's not a noose in my hand, it's an ankh. <br>I could run an extortion racket of jukebox mirrors<br>and have them placed in all the best cafes <br>so when you put a quarter moon in <br>they reflect anything you ask them to. <br>You've got a beautiful face. Man <br>are you smart. Yes, you're the son of Zeus<br>and I'm the oracle of Amun at Siwa. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And every occasion I can with integrity <br>I try to. I praise the larkspur. <br>I'm exhilarated by the waterlilies <br>that have almost come to mean <br>as much to me as the stars on a summer night. <br>I rejoice in extraordinarily ordinary events <br>between people, I don't expect to experience again<br>the way he walks beside her like a green crutch <br>coming into bloom and leafing like a loveletter<br>trying to be a strong tree she can lean on, <br>and so much is so crucial to a blessed few<br>or a father walking down the street, <br>listening to his daughter as if she were the Buddha<br>or middle C and he had to keep his eighty-eights straight. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Born a cellular optimist or too stupid to be a cynic, <br>though there are days I live like a dog, <br>and I know that denying this suggestive reality <br>is to summon its affirmation as if <br>something in the context of life heard you <br>and though you're never certain, out to prove you wrong.<br>And likewise endorsing it, invites its denial.<br> <br>This is the middle extreme and it should be lived <br>immensely with intensity like a Sufi gyroscope <br>in dynamic equilibrium with your wingspan<br>whether you're homing to a sacred grove for the night <br>and your heart is a bell of shadows<br>or you're one of the good sugars of life <br>fulfilled by the dawn where all the birds <br>sound like one harmony, but if you listen a little harder, <br>they're all out of tune with each other, <br>this one a bass run and that an arpeggio <br>on a water flute that can hold a note like a dropp of dew <br>on the tongue of a blade of stargrass when it wants to.<br>When the long wavelengths of its tears <br>aren't breaking ashore like a menagerie of glass horses.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">My mystic guestimate is. In the dark beyond <br>the blazing memes that have yet to light a candle to the stars, <br>love silvers the harvest of the heart in moonlight <br>and comes by day with a golden scythe to thresh it, <br>and an understanding that puts its trust in the future of life<br>like a windfall of apples swarmed by wasps like a train <br>that had jumped its tracks, or dozens of whales <br>were beached overnight and crushed their lungs <br>under their own weight, though that wasn't as buoyant <br>as the previous metaphor, nevertheless it's not <br>an injudicious verisimilitude for what I'm getting at.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">If your passion for anything is ferocious enough <br>sooner or later you're going to meet a nemetic dragon <br>though I'm sure that's just a dream cloak <br>for projecting my anxieties onto a blaze <br>of cold-blooded reptiles with inflammable wings, <br>and you're going to look deeply into the fangs of its eyes <br>as if you had to go through this ordeal <br>to suffer for what you love to prove you're real.<br>Today I lived like one long mouthless scream.<br>I could have kicked stars in someone's face. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Too much of a black farce to be the credible dream<br>of the air corridor I'm trying to sustain <br>like a black hole to the other side of the hourglass<br>that's timing all this like a heartbeat of picture-music. <br>Now I'm writing poetry beside an aquarium <br>at two in the morning with three goldfish <br>hovering in their sleep beside me like hummingbirds<br>gone back to the sea as we all do eventually.<br>And it feels good to see the likeness in disparate things <br>and bring them together like the moon on the mindstream, <br>maple fire dancing to the rhythm of northern water, <br>and though it's impossible to assess the worth <br>of what I'm doing as a poet in the twenty-first century <br>I can feel the compassion of a crazy wisdom <br>in every feather of light that falls to earth like Icarus.</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=476624" data-title="I Could Look At It With Sweeter Eyes de Patrick White" data-description="I could look at it with sweeter eyes. 
The way boys and cowards romanticize war. 
I could emphasize the honeysuckle and fireflies.
I could say that's not a noose in my hand, it's an ankh. 
I could run an extortion racket of jukebox mirrors
and hav..."></div>
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