Zitat des Tages von Karl Shapiro:
In the tight belly of the dead, Burrow with hungry head, And inlay maggots like a jewel.
To make the child in your own image is a capital crime, for your image is not worth repeating. The child knows this and you know it. Consequently you hate each other.
Poetry is innocent, not wise. It does not learn from experience, because each poetic experience is unique.
The body, what is it, Father, but a sign To love the force that grows us, to give back What in Thy palm is senselessness and mud?
Already old, the question Who shall die? Becomes unspoken Who is innocent?
Lastly, his tomb shall list and founder in the troughs of grass. And none shall speak his name.
The good poet sticks to his real loves, those within the realm of possibility. He never tries to hold hands with God or the human race.
The doctor punched my vein, the captain called me Cain, upon my belly sat the sow of fear.
My soul is now her day, my day her night, So I lie down, and so I rise.