When or if or everwill heturn his head to me?Can hebe willed to, the wayI can wish ill on an enemyan
When or if or everwill heturn his head to me?Can hebe willed to, the wayI can wish ill on an enemyand watch it strike? No, seespite is so mucheasier than love, heavybut I can hold it,more stonethan water, more whythan how. And how could Icall himand by what nameto make him stumbleand slow?—or better, prefer meto the vanishingpoint, horizon, colorwhich existsonly from a great distancebetweenmy voice and the songhe pursues. Ohhe grows oldahead of me, he grows sothe same (refrain, refrain).He does not turnhis head to me, he will not turn again. -- source link
#poetry#jameson fitzpatrick#resignation