Sunday, May 10, 2009

High Windows

When I see a couple of kids
And guess he's fucking her and she's
Taking pills or wearing a diaphragm,
I know this is paradise

Everyone old has dreamed of all their lives--
Bonds and gestures pushed to one side
Like an outdated combine harvester,
And everyone young going down the long slide

To happiness, endlessly. I wonder if
Anyone looked at me, forty years back,
And thought, That'll be the life;
No God anymore, or sweating in the dark

About hell and that, or having to hide 
What you think of the priest. He
And his lot will all go down the long slide
Like free bloody birds. And immediately

Rather than words comes the thought of high windows:
The sun-comprehending glass,
And beyond it, the deep blue air, that shows
Nothing, and is nowhere, and is endless.

-Philip Larkin

Thursday, May 7, 2009

If

On the main floor, the worry is nothing. Nothing. Looking around they will be on one side. All together, civilly. Shaking hands. That will be fine. There will be talking. They will call the names. It will be ok.
But then, outside. Everyone will be around. There will be cameras. The best part would be that it wouldn't be sick. There wouldn't be holes. The last two years would matter.

But none of that is real. Never.

About Me

I love learning. I love laughing out loud at literature.