Through greatness we devour what we render;
These are but rapacious tenants,
Waiting wolf-like to savour intimate moments,
Mere microseconds flowing through us
Dragging in the mire.
I held in that vacant transparency
Volumes that came and went,
Departed in their dexterity
No less than gnashing teeth or a
Tram passing through my hands.
I hastened calmly through that country,
Paused by the flames,
Of an insouciant creation.
These were the tricks I could play,
And were played on me;
If I took the path
It was only one,
Its terms laid down,
Like golden tresses,
Its aisles speckled by long drawn images,
The leading lamps, leading
To coiled gaspness.
Poet's Notes about The Poem
Comments about this poem (The Measure by Jay Alexander )
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