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History has to live with what was here,
clutching and close to fumbling all we had--
it is so dull and gruesome how we die,
unlike writing, life never finishes.
Abel was finished; death is not remote,
a flash-in-the-pan electrifies the skeptic,
his cows crowding like skulls against high-voltage wire,
his baby crying all night like a new machine.
As in our Bibles, white-faced, predatory,
the beautiful, mist-drunken hunter's moon ascends--
a child could give it a face: two holes, two holes,
my eyes, my mouth, between them a skull's no-nose--
O there's a terrifying innocence in my face
drenched with the silver salvage of the mornfrost.
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Comments
I thought the symbolism was inticing and the imagery painted a beautiful scene in my head. I think what draws me most to my love of this poem would be its use of analogies of history. It's alagorical nature has many deep meanings and I find out more evry time I read this poem. You can clearly see his political as well as religious views and the theme of confessionalism is very prominent. Stanza 2 is a good example of that. I'm just kidding. I have no clue what the hell I'm talking about.
Zach Hart