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Do not kill him when you meet him on the stairs or in the street
by Indigo TempestaI tell you, then, so you will know
you own what is due
to these strangers confessed
Who confess of their sins
on the stairs and in the way
Whose sins are sentences
Touch them,
commute--
by body,
or by blindness,
by brilliance--
commute, by seeing into
the purge of death,
the horrors of done
things. I tell you
so you will know them
when they come
and that you
Among them
should be and know
yourself, and that skimming
along the water's white gild
is the quick-eyed pike
which knows the still from the dead
The dead are not food
The pike is the confessor
The pike is dangerous
Learn this by body 01/17/2007 Posted on 01/18/2007
Copyright © 2024 Indigo Tempesta
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by John Nivel on 01/19/07 at 06:13 PM I think you've surpassed Emily Dic_kenson in my inability to understand a poem. This is not a criticism, per se, just a personal observation. Did you ever read Robert W. Service? That level of simplicity is what I can understand. |
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