Friday, August 29, 2014

Bill Knott


Always reading the recto
translation of a verso
original, my eye fades.
I notice how the paper 
here on this side seems
darker than its opposite:
it is brighter over there
on the lefthand page, the
words of the real poem
give it that glow which
the prized act of creation
emits. We who must live
here in Righthandland
are damned no matter 
how hard we try to rhyme
minds with that perfect
realm across the gutter.
Even if our pulp comes
from the same stock,
we fear closing the book
will bring us face to face,
mouth to mouth with
that tongue we've always
lost, and can never kiss.

Fr. The Unsubscriber 
(New York: FS&G,2004)

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