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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=476625" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>I Did The Kind Of Good A Storm Does</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I did the kind of good a storm does.<br>I may have broken some tree limbs <br>and downed some powerlines along the way<br>but I cleared the air of its festering <br>and from top to bottom <br>we got down to the roots of things <br>like lightning and rain<br>like real radicals<br>free-basing the ideological ions <br>addicted to their brains <br>like razorblades. <br>O ya<br>I remember now <br>we were going to save the world from itself. <br>I gave up trying <br>when I realized <br>that if we did that <br>there would be no one left <br>to save the world from us. <br>Trying to justify yourself in retrospect <br>is like trying to exonerate a big hairdo <br>you wore back in the early seventies. <br>It can't be done <br>except as a kind of dangerous chess <br>you play with yourself <br>and cheat.<br>It's fun to play <br>with the lethal intensities <br>and swaggering immensities of yesterday<br>as if all those great sublimities that moved us <br>like fixed stars<br>had come down to earth <br>like the ashs of fireflies <br>in a snakepit of thought<br>poured out of tiny urns<br>the size of a human heart. <br>When I've got nothing else to do <br>and the moon bores me late at night with its looking<br>I run my tongue along the edge of your words <br>like old knives<br>I've kept like a collection of my favourite smiles <br>to see if they still know how to draw blood<br>and what that might still mean to my heart. <br>Maybe I should have fallen on them like swords <br>as you wanted me to <br>instead of reading them <br>like a delinquent boy <br>in front of a no trespassing sign. <br>Back in those days <br>my heart was a rock <br>and my mind <br>was a broken windowpane. <br>But I'm not one of those people <br>who long for the past <br>as if you could step into the same river twice. <br>Everyone forgets <br>memory<br>Mnemosyne <br>is the mother of the muses.<br>Everyday the past <br>comes up with a new song<br>that surpasses the last like the future. <br>The ghost of tomorrow returns to its grave at dawn. <br>The past is just as spontaneously inspired<br>as the present<br>and makes it up as it goes along <br>thinking this is what it must be like <br>to live on and on and on<br>with your cosmic elbows <br>leaning on earthly windowsills <br>wondering what it might be like to die <br>and come back <br>reincarnated as a horizon <br>or a threshold. <br>But I don't go back to the past <br>for the view <br>like a tourist passing through<br>his old neighbourhood<br>to see where he was born and died. <br>I don't want a brass plague <br>for a birth certificate<br>and a postcard <br>from the edge of nowhere <br>for a passport<br>that lies about my record<br>for telling <br>what I mistake for the truth <br>to anyone who'll listen. <br>I don't want to fake my way into reality<br>the way they do in Zen. <br>I don't want to begin again <br>like tomorrow's has-been. <br>I'm not trying to convert the faithless <br>to my disbelief <br>like a tree preaching to a leaf<br>like a cross to a crucifixion.<br>I'm not trying to pump my latest work of fiction <br>up into a universally inflatable religion<br>you can take on camping trips to the holy land. <br>I'm not sure <br>I'm even really trying to understand <br>the way things were way back then <br>when we didn't need to. <br>Just something to do <br>when I'm watching the moon <br>float downstream<br>like the prophetic skull of Orpheus <br>all the way from Thrace to Mytilene in Lesbos.<br>If I look at it long enough <br>even through a dirty window <br>I can see a footloose waterlily <br>preening its feathers <br>like the swan of a loveletter <br>late in the autumn <br>to someone <br>who will pick it up out of the water<br>and wonder who it's from<br>for the rest of their life<br>like I do <br>remembering you <br>as you are to me <br>now that all these lunar calendars <br>have shed their blossoms and leaves<br>and stand naked as the tree of knowledge <br>adding zeros to everything <br>like tree-rings in the heartwood <br>of my personal history. <br>I've never made a cliche <br>out of any muse of mine <br>whether she took me to bed or not.<br>If she infused me with inspiration <br>I didn't abuse her <br>with a parting shot<br>like the afterthought<br>of an ignoble mind<br>or a paper phoenix <br>that couldn't take the heat<br>when things got sweet and hot. <br>I come back <br>like an old wind to a funeral pyre <br>that blazed its way up to the stars <br>to see if anything<br>was left unburnt or unanswered <br>in the ashes of the scorched earth.<br>I rock the cradle awhile <br>like a manger in hell <br>that once gave birth<br>to a childless messiah.<br>I transcend my own innocence <br>and fall toward paradise <br>without asking to be forgiven. <br>Love hangs stars above us all<br>that take the fall <br>for the way our scars <br>demonize our open wounds for living. <br>I drink from my skull<br>to your memory<br>and then I drink to you <br>whoever you are now.<br>In a desert on the moon<br>in a sea of shadows<br>I drink in the darkness alone<br>like an open window <br>to let the birds out <br>as if they were the only words<br>I had left to say <br>about the passing years<br>to hide my crazy tears <br>like an atheist on a grailquest <br>who knows that life <br>is a mirage <br>of burning muse water<br>that tastes like broken mirrors.</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=476625" data-title="I Did The Kind Of Good A Storm Does de Patrick White" data-description="I did the kind of good a storm does.
I may have broken some tree limbs 
and downed some powerlines along the way
but I cleared the air of its festering 
and from top to bottom 
we got down to the roots of things 
like lightning and rain
like real ..."></div>
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