We need a new rule of thumb,
Or a new thumb (why not a new Globe; can you imagine Belgians Becoming saints? Merci beaucoup.) Antimatter must cling to matter. Dust must cling to wind, cams To a mountain, the inside of which isn’t Visible. The fleas keep the lambs Shaking their heads and make them move, They climb the same mountain. Meanwhile, The bees make honey, and phosphorescence Glows in the eyes of the crocodile.
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You know what’s worse than finding a worm
In an apple? Finding half a worm. A worm at least is alive, one day It too will recite a blessing, affirm The gift of the apple, but even half A worm will grow a new end, because Life cannot pause, and that which is ripped Must mend, then blend with the giver of laws. You can see her in the mirror,
But you might as well go home. You’re even lonelier than you were before, Your thought becomes a palindrome. You’ve lost her, and a little of Your class act, you feel the grit Of your Turkish coffee, and you may as well see Your life on TV in a late night skit. You win a million dollars, and you lose it Forever. You decide: you’ll go back to her, “I’ll open your door, I’ll arrange your shoes.” You notice her perfume is myrrh. The dung beetle likes dung, you can’t
Argue, one day it asks itself, “What’s the nutrition in this?” The thought Lingers. It won’t stay on the shelf. And the beetle grows wiser, it gains a degree, And the lion says, “What do I like about meat?” If you start too quickly, spice the food And keep it in the light of a heat Lamp. In the pond, a tadpole Turns into a frog, in orbit a rock Turns into a moon, a stumbling drunk Takes hold of a crypress alpenstock. |
Yaacov David Shulman
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