i owe a lot to my favourite poetry professor. sometimes, i do believe people come together for a re
ason.
From the Third Level
after William Blake’s Proverbs of Hell
And the caterpillar lays her eggs
on the greenest leaves,
I can see her from my window
and I think of small babies with
small baby teeth.
If my children ate plants,
I’d climb the tallest trees
and pick each meal
off only the finest branches.
But I’ll never do that because
I’m human and we’re all sinners,
anyway. We choose only the
best branches to break, set
fire to the greenest leaves
and let the offering of fruit
ferment before we drink.
This kingdom rots for our pleasure
and, inebriated, we accept it,
choosing wicked pleasures of life
over simplicity, like reaching
out a window to touch a sycamore tree.
From the Third Level
after William Blake’s Proverbs of Hell
And the caterpillar lays her eggs
on the greenest leaves,
I can see her from my window
and I think of small babies with
small baby teeth.
If my children ate plants,
I’d climb the tallest trees
and pick each meal
off only the finest branches.
But I’ll never do that because
I’m human and we’re all sinners,
anyway. We choose only the
best branches to break, set
fire to the greenest leaves
and let the offering of fruit
ferment before we drink.
This kingdom rots for our pleasure
and, inebriated, we accept it,
choosing wicked pleasures of life
over simplicity, like reaching
out a window to touch a sycamore tree.