Mortaljive: The Rest is Silence

There is no still point in all the Universe, and that is the rock upon which I stand

Thursday, January 04, 2007

Yes to no, no to yes

the year is said to be new:
it is cool and wet where I sit
and cannot be contained or located
or even touched
but many will die within its arms
many born too, many indeed

it seems really hard, this
task of saying yes to no
no to yes
life to death when graves
are given tenants so young

to the babies: we will say no to
you ten million times and it still
won't be enough, not to counter all the
times you--whatever you are--say yes
yes I will climb that table
yes I will smash that plant
yes I will scream holy terror
when you tell me no

we will send the poor ones away to kill people
but only some of the poor, not enough to make
god notice
we will send the beautiful ones to kiss and dance
and make summer love for money or just because
to make the poor ones glad

we will send you to camp and to school and to
mordor and to tomorrow and to those yawning graves
where the earth can eat you like it's supposed to
we will unearth you in time
and comment on your position at death
or the flood will unleash you and bear you somewhere
ultimate, like a fish or a berry or a bird
or a leaf

yes to no: you must put on the weight of our choices
you must wear the glorious mantle
and slaughter the hordes, the latest enemies
the chart busters--go, kill them
we love you
kill them
we love you
kill them

yes, yes, little soldier
rat-a-tat-tat

no, no, little goers
don't go dancing with the bones

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