Came upon this poem a few years ago. To this day it is one of my favorites. I still can't believe I took a seminar with this man last semester.
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Eating Poetry
Mark Strand
I
Eating Poetry
Ink runs from the corners of my mouth.
There is no happiness like mine.
I have been eating poetry.
The librarian does not believe what she sees.
Her eyes are sad
and she walks with her hands in her dress.
The poems are gone.
The light is dim.
The dogs are on the basement stairs and coming up.
Their eyeballs roll,
their blond legs burn like brush.
The poor librarian begins to stamp her feet and weep.
She does not understand.
When I get on my knees and lick her hand,
she screams.
I am a new man,
I snarl at her and bark,
I romp with joy in the bookish dark.
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Also: The Airborne Toxic Event's Sometime Around Midnight. Such a well-composed and catchy song.
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And some Brooklyn art:
1 comment:
At work over the summer I had to make a leaflet advertising a six-month poetry program and I put that poem on the back, because I feel it my duty to make suburbanites more interesting.
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