Wednesday, 19 January 2022

‘…and the canaries sang no more…’ [Charles Bukowski]


Perhaps their silence is a good thing,

if Ogden Nash is to be believed,

for who of us could appreciate

an unvaried song?

 

Our songs never change, either:

blaming others; shaming ourselves.

 

To paraphrase the Priest Mansei:

our unspectacular existence

is no more solid than

 

the vapour trail I saw just now,

vanishing across the lonely sky,

the only reason I could think of for its blueness.

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