Collected Poems

stricken face gladly flown

your droopéd flag spoken

your tremulous eulogy—and

been alive…. Admittedly you

suffered too. You lived wretchedly

on all manner of gross fare;

you were tethered to the nervous

precipice day and night; your

groomed hair lost gloss, your

smooth body roundedness. Truly

you suffered much. But now

you have the choice of a dozen

ways to rehabilitate yourself.

Pick any

one of them and soon

you will forget the fear

and hardship, the peril

on the edge of the chasm…. The

shops stock again a variety

of hair dyes, the lace and

the gold are coming back; so

you will regain lost mirth

and girth and forget. But when,

how soon, will they their death? Long,

long after you forget they turned

newcomers again before the hazards

and rigors of reincarnation, rude

clods once more who once had borne

the finest scarifications of the potter's

delicate hand now squashed back