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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=477060" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>You May. You May Not Come. Maybe Tonight. Or Not</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">You may. You may not come. Maybe tonight. Or not. <br>When it's not cooking cosmic eggs, boiling heretics <br>in the hot oil of bubbling cauldrons, the hourglass <br>is sandpainting sidereal mandalas with stars <br>to empower the wind to blow them away, <br>bones of grey chalk watergilding my flesh in ash. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">What did I say? What did I say that was so unorthodox<br>all the bells of your body were left speechless<br>at the sight of so many grails trashed like empties <br>from a car window like a litter of roadkill <br>along the side of the highway? Did I transit <br>the zenith of the burning bridge of your last loveletter, <br>or should I have jumped, or fell, or cannonballed in <br>to make a bigger splash in the blood vats of your heart? <br>Maybe a meteor to render your old lovers extinct? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">I watch the cold windows until they begin to percolate<br>in an unexpected thaw of disciplined sorrows. <br>It's getting late. Your absence, a glacial waterclock<br>followed by a lot of patronymic colons about who <br>begat what upon whom. I don't want to meet your father.<br>I'd kill him on the spot. I don't want to prove <br>to your mother I'm going to be good to you <br>in ways that she was not as she soaks <br>the blood from the carpet like gouts <br>of insincere candlewax. The price you pay <br>for three meals a day and a creative finishing school <br>where you can afford the kind of problems<br>the poor don't make enough to imitate. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">They worry about where the next meal <br>is coming from. You were born knowing <br>how far out the soup spoon was supposed <br>to be aligned from the begging bowl<br>like a shepherd moon in orbit around Neptune.<br>And me? I eat out of my skull on the run <br>whenever I'm writing poetry to the moon <br>in one long howl of anguished wanting. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Were the diamonds too hard? Wasn't I <br>bituminous enough when I entered the dark <br>to show you how I could shine out of <br>my own inner resources like two hundred million<br>urns of light gathered from the firepits of the stars<br>by the crows that keep pecking out my eyes <br>like jackhammers looking for the motherlode? <br>And when I watched you slicing the throats <br>of your long-necked swans like ballet dancers <br>and black daffodils on an angle to preserve them longer <br>as cut flowers on the coffee table, didn't I <br>make a Zen comment on the way you'd arranged them? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">I've been scarred by love like a clay tablet in cuneiform <br>in the library of Ashurbanipal. The crow<br>has scratched at my flesh to show me where to bury<br>my dismembered body parts to guarantee <br>a higher yield over the ensuing light years. <br>The cat claw of the moon has caught my eye <br>more than once. Fireflies in a bird net, <br>I've cauterized my optic nerves on the constellations <br>of my own signage to keep my brain from seeing <br>what my heart was afraid to reveal to itself.<br>I was a blind prophet being led away by a child. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">I could witness on the dark side of my seeing <br>the bird eating arachnids with two red stars for eyes <br>weaving their wavelengths into low frequency webs<br>like the bass strings of a slack guitar<br>to catch the fire of the morning dew in a false dawn<br>like Cherokee water spiders with hairy down <br>and scarlet stripes casting magical spells <br>like the geoglyph on the Nazca pampas <br>with Alnitak, Alnilam, and Mintaka<br>in the hourglass waist of Orion trying to squeeze <br>its abdomen into a whalebone corset <br>before the Arabs changed its sex <br>into the belt of a less subtle Hunter<br>with a trophy line of scalps for wampum. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">One of them mine. My eyes transfixed <br>by the paradigm of an eclipse being peeled back<br>like a black eyelid of time, or raven tresses<br>from the skull of the moon. I've known <br>the innocence of the crow when its feathers <br>were albino white before its failure turned sinister <br>as a starless night. A penury of insight <br>pearl diving for diamonds in a tarpit of love<br>that swore the new moon would last forever<br>like apple bloom and silver on the inside of the ore.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But sometimes the Artesian springs we plant <br>in the starmud of our hearts come up like black holes <br>and flowers of oil and what's left of the shining<br>is the tinfoil of a trickster shaman substituting <br>his hunting magic to gratify the eyes of fools<br>that revel in their amorous delusions and spurn <br>the astringencies of enlightenment that burn <br>like circumpolar suns at midnight illuminating <br>nothing but the skins we shed to let the snake <br>out the box like Draco, without getting bit <br>by the picture-music of our own motives<br>trying to charm the serpent fire with backbone flutes <br>jamming with the downed powerlines <br>of our badly tuned spinal cords riffing <br>with the cosmic spiders writing the lyrics <br>of our myth of origins like electrical dreamcatchers<br>with toxic pincers like the tuning forks of splintered stars.</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=477060" data-title="You May. You May Not Come. Maybe Tonight. Or Not de Patrick White" data-description="You may. You may not come. Maybe tonight. Or not. 
When it's not cooking cosmic eggs, boiling heretics 
in the hot oil of bubbling cauldrons, the hourglass 
is sandpainting sidereal mandalas with stars 
to empower the wind to blow them away, 
bone..."></div>
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