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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=476994" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Under This Black Umbrella</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Under this black umbrella, the eyelid of the black rose <br>	that eclipses the pearls and starfish that I feed it, <br>		my second skin tattooed with a map of undiscovered constellations, <br>this black poppy of a sky ribbed like a tent <br>	with the bones of bats and dragons, stalked on the spine<br>		of an interrogative scorpion who reverses questions <br>like a fishing hook, my heart feathered for sacrifice <br>	and pierced by its stinger for bait, though I never know <br>		what god I’m dedicated to, what ghoul of the depths<br>rises to swallow me whole, I have risked my whole life <br>	against the run of my luck, open in the house<br>		under the shadow of its wing, following a funeral for years<br>that has lost its way to the grave. No need to tell you <br>	that the mourners have turned to salt <br>		and wandered away with the rain; no need <br>to tell you that I never knew the deceased <br>	except as an elegant sorrow famous among clowns.<br>		Under this black umbrella, this widow-veil, <br>this pygmy parachute, this mistaken sail of a lethal love triste<br>	that jumps from attic windows, a deacon of descents, <br>		there are blind birds who have never known the dawn <br>and seeds that wince in the light, painters<br>	who keep the drapes drawn and their sunglasses on; <br>		and if I were to mention the impoverished nights <br>I slummed with colloquial carbons while flies <br>	bounced like black holes against the ceiling<br>		looking for emergency exits beyond their event horizons, <br>I could only bore you with broken-hearted cosmologies. <br>	Under this black umbrella, this shallow bell <br>		with a toad’s tongue, this bitter chandelier <br>inverted like a crown of thorns that’s had enough to drink, <br>	this black dwarf that’s dwindled from the shining <br>		like the memory of a miscarriage of the light <br>from years ago, mascara comets rave of happier assassinations <br>	and liberated embryos; life gets around <br>		on the stepping stones of pregnant meteors<br>and there’s a spider that hangs above me like a plectrum or a hand<br>	trying to master bass-runs on my spinal cord.<br>		Under this black umbrella, this mouth that gapes, <br>this broad-brimmed palmer’s hat, this radio dish <br>	that begs for wavelengths it can understand<br>		from a dying civilization on a catastrophic brain <br>tilted on its axis below the equatorial plane <br>	of a decaying orbit light-years away from salvation<br>		and all the lifeboats gone, and the only signs <br>of advanced intelligence, this swansong in extraterrestrial code, <br>	there are no holy lands, there are no cruel exemptions left.</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=476994" data-title="Under This Black Umbrella de Patrick White" data-description="Under this black umbrella, the eyelid of the black rose 
	that eclipses the pearls and starfish that I feed it, 
		my second skin tattooed with a map of undiscovered constellations, 
this black poppy of a sky ribbed like a tent 
	with the bones of..."></div>
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