Poem for July 23

July 23, 2012 § 1 Comment

Self Portrait

He wants to be
a brutal old man,
an aggressive old man,
as dull, as brutal
as the emptiness around him.

He doesn’t want compromise,
nor ever to be nice
to anyone. Just mean,
and final in his brutal,
his total, rejection of it all.

He tried the sweet,
the gentle, the “oh
let’s hold hands together”
and it was awful,
dull, brutally inconsequential.

Now he’ll stand on
his own dwindling legs.
His arms, his skin,
shrink daily. And
he loves but hates equally.

-Robert Creeley, from Echoes (Toothpaste Press, 1982)

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