Poem in a **Hotel
In a corner of my ** hotel room
On top of the convenient mini-bar
There sits an old and tragic poem.
You too have memorised the well-worn catchwords
And wallowed in the well-worn phrases.
For us, today, the text is writ in crimson
And the words to follow repeat themselves backwards.
The right becomes left.
The left becomes right.
[ :: breaking ]
[ king news : ]
The night is long ...
Somewhere it's day.
I stretch out my arm,
And reach for Stevens.
_______
gw2010
Should I know who Stevens is? Have I missed a post or do you assume I know? With this poem I would have to think long and hard as to what I thought of it - but nevertheless I wish I had written it.
ReplyDeleteThank you Weaver. By the way, Stevens is the insurance man & poet Wallace Stevens. In the previous post there's also included a picture of him.
ReplyDeleteR S Thomas the Welsh priest & poet was a reader of Stevens. And so I naturally I came to him.
What a joy! Just glad it wasn't a **** hotel as I wouldn't know the word!
ReplyDeleteThank you Gordon. With a ****hotel, I suppose the word might be 'rank'.
ReplyDelete"Taxi!"