Errata, by Charles Simic

April 21, 2008 | Comments (1) |
Years ago (maybe 1999?), Maggie sent me this poem, "Errata" by Charles Simic, who is the current American Poet Laureate. I believe it was published in his first poetry collection, What the Grass Says.

Errata

Where it says snow
read teeth-marks of a virgin
Where it says knife read
you passed through my bones
like a police-whistle
Where it says table read horse
Where it says horse read my migrant's bundle
Apples are to remain apples
Each time a hat appears
think of Isaac Newton
reading the Old Testament
Remove all periods
They are scars made by words
I couldn't bring myself to say
Put a finger over each sunrise
it will blind you otherwise
That damn ant is still stirring
Will there be time left to list
all errors to replace
all hands guns owls plates
all cigars ponds woods and reach
that beer-bottle my greatest mistake
the word I allowed to be written
when I should have shouted
her name

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1 Comments

marcos said:

~a tidy little mess~

a tidy little mess
that is always there
and yet not seen

like the love of good women
which one trusts will not leave
so much so
i stop sending love notes

or streets noise
so constant
you no longer hear it

like the pain
born in childhood of so many wrongs
so common
we long for it
and create more
in its absence
to fill the void

how blind we are
to what we see
everyday

we neglect
what we seem to love most
and that is
my tidy little mess

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