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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=476817" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>One Side Of My Face</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">One side of my face what the world <br>looks like on the inside, <br>a mindscape I’m walking through <br>that changes shape whenever I do.<br>And the other just a clay bust of the moon <br>that somebody keeps working on <br>like erosion in Death Valley. <br>But tonight I’m tired <br>of looking for signs of life <br>where there are none.<br>The air is as smudged with cigarette smoke <br>as the dirty winter windows <br>I’m staring numbly through are.<br>Infra red aura of the town lights <br>reflected off the big-bellied clouds <br>as if something were burning <br>across the highway as those <br>who are awake yet listen <br>to the Doppler Effect of the sirens<br>to know if they’re still safe or not.<br>A pastel green wall <br>through an open window <br>across the street from here.<br>But I haven’t seen anybody in it <br>for nearly a year since I moved in here<br>where every second thought <br>ends in so what? <br>Like a cynical kind of cowboy zen <br>that’s had it up to the proverbial <br>with koans and haikus<br>that provide you with spurs to enlightenment<br>but no winged horse<br>that isn’t already a corpse <br>lying by the side of the road like roadkill.<br>My mind soars like a turkey-vulture <br>when my heart <br>wants to swim like a swan<br>down river with the stars of the Milky Way<br>as I did one suicidal May in a six man raft <br>with no rudder or guide <br>in the spring run off of the Ottawa River <br>to raise money for <br>the Children’s Hospital of Eastern Ontario.<br>But the cheap thrill <br>of risking my life for virtue<br>has worn off like chalk on a pool cue <br>and if light is the function <br>of the body of the lamp <br>right now I feel like<br>a blackhole with a bad complexion<br>that’s gone snowblind <br>in the glare of a computer screen.<br>I figure if I stare back long enough <br>sooner or later <br>one of us is going to blink<br>and discover what’s on the other side <br>of what the other one thinks <br>it’s looking at <br>when it puts an hourglass <br>up to its eye like a telescope <br>to know what time it is <br>and how many light years there are <br>between solitude and exile. <br>Between staying in and going out.<br>The tin gas pipes crackle<br>like ice breaking underfoot <br>or a bird in the chimney <br>trying to peck its way out <br>of a black cosmic eggshell<br>that’s as starless as hell on the inside <br>and tarred and feathered on the other, <br>assuming, of course, <br>it ever does crack the koan<br>in the liberty bell of enlightenment <br>and emerge with the wingspan of a dragon<br>into a room full of cigarette smoke <br>and patchouli incense <br>rising like the ghost of a white horse <br>as if someone who just fell off <br>the cutting edge of the flat earth <br>were trying to get on again like Icarus<br>waning in a wax museum on the moon.</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=476817" data-title="One Side Of My Face de Patrick White" data-description="One side of my face what the world 
looks like on the inside, 
a mindscape I’m walking through 
that changes shape whenever I do.
And the other just a clay bust of the moon 
that somebody keeps working on 
like erosion in Death Valley. 
But toni..."></div>
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