No Country for Old Men
An aged man is but a paltry thing, A
tattered coat upon a stick, unless Soul
clap its hands and sing, and louder sing
For every tatter in its mortal dress
(Yeats)
The split between world & constellation,
matter & whatsamatter, pleasures of flesh
& mind-games, humanism & beyond, shame
& guilt, peer pressure & truth-iness, Maypolers
& Puritans: while still torn between 2 lovers, I
know what pulls me most for good and for ill
—damaged and damaging if I do and damaged
and damaging if I don’t: a conviction of spin..
Fool for Christ’s sakes. Damaged from here
to eternity. I rush in, jiggle dance or sit in my
womb with a view and do no thing: makes no
never mind. Can’t fail for failing. All wet with
theories of damp & dry. This is good news &
unpostponed joy
If I have to ask what it costs, I can’t afford the
Rolls.
xxxooo, Presbyter
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