ILLUMINATION

I floated down, trailing my luminous clouds
into the hot dusty square, and landed among people
who were happily wallowing in the dirt
with their dogs, pigs, and chickens.
They stopped rolling over each other
and began to throw stones, shouting
that I was dragging bloody rags and that I stank.
As the crowd surged toward me,
I picked up a stone, threw it,
and fled down a narrow, dirty alley.

REGRESSIVE SONNET

W. S., to himself


Your old catastrophes queued to recur,
And vital fire contracted to a hole,
Can you go back in dreams to what you were,
And try anew the unenacted role?

Dead pleasures fading to a wasted blur,
Desire perversely lives, a glowing coal
That stale regret but pricks you on to stir,
Revision of the past your only goal.

So little left could hardly come to less:
The clinging succubus that made you prey,
And yet possesses you, makes you regress;

The sleepless demon that forced you to say
"Yes" when you meant "No," "No" when you meant "Yes,"
Still makes a day of night, a night of day.





Portrait of Shakespeare from http://quotationsbook.com/quotes/author/photos/6633


x