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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=477062" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>You Read My Poetry</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">You read my poetry <br>and you need a locus, <br>something to hang on to, <br>a familiar milieu, a focus, <br>right ascension and declination, <br>a starmap and astrolabe, <br>and the usual pictures painted <br>on the lens of the usual telescope. <br>If I had wanted you to follow me <br>I would have dropped breadcrumbs, <br>I would have spray-bombed the trees<br>an adolescent cadmium red <br>to show you where the road goes.<br>I may have been pulled like a weed <br>from the garden of Eden <br>and tossed to the wilder side of things, <br>a meteor among boundary stones, <br>but that doesn't mean my darkness is tar, <br>or all these stars are a kind of quicksand<br>you're sinking through like a sculptor <br>swimming through stone <br>with a chisel in your hand.<br>Maybe you're just the wrong tool for the job. <br>Maybe you're trying to follow the music with a map. <br>Maybe you haven't come to terms <br>with eleven dimensions yet <br>and you're still standing at the gates <br>of your own singularity, hat in hand, <br>waiting for a passport<br>incommensurably as pi<br>hoping for refugee status. <br>Maybe you don't know <br>the whole universe <br>begins with a kiss<br>between the lips <br>of two membranes <br>in an ocean of dimensions <br>beyond the reach of your sensible wave <br>and the big bang<br>is not the beginning <br>but the afterbirth of the matter. <br>It's hard to believe that your mind is free <br>when you're standing there <br>with chains in your hand <br>counting rosaries like vertebrae. <br>It's hard to know what to say <br>that might amuse you<br>outside of convention, <br>but that doesn't mean <br>I've spent my life<br>trying to find <br>a new way to confuse you. <br>If I revel in the simulacra <br>like a kid in the fall playing in leaves, <br>if I kick a stone down the road like the earth as far as it can go <br>or use the moon to plumb the well <br>of my raindropp depths, <br>or try to walk on fire, stars, water, <br>hoping my feet are better lifeboats <br>than my migratory reasons are <br>birds for all seasons, <br>or I'm kind to the illusions <br>I had to leave along the way<br>like roadside flowers <br>closing in eclipse, <br>it may well be <br>the playful compassion of fools <br>that exempts the wise man <br>like a hard rock on the mountain <br>from the avalanche <br>of cornerstones and schools<br>you keep bringing down upon yourself like an echo.<br>You might hear a pair of morning doves in the trees<br>and the bee in the burgundy ear of the hollyhock<br>and all the key frequencies of string theory <br>and know how to finger them masterfully<br>leaping from fret to fret <br>like balance beams <br>and well-worn thresholds<br>up and down your neck <br>like serpent-fire through your open chakras, <br>but to judge from the way you look at me <br>you've never once<br>cupped your hands <br>like a lifeboat in the mindstream <br>and washed your face off in the music<br>so you could see what you've been listening to <br>like the rain on the inside of a broken windowpane.</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=477062" data-title="You Read My Poetry de Patrick White" data-description="You read my poetry 
and you need a locus, 
something to hang on to, 
a familiar milieu, a focus, 
right ascension and declination, 
a starmap and astrolabe, 
and the usual pictures painted 
on the lens of the usual telescope. 
If I had wanted you ..."></div>
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