| Four
Poems Christopher Bernard |
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To hear a reading of these pieces by the author, visit the Multimedia section. Vita Contemplativa Not to act, not to move -- to have done with doing -- that is all: very un-American. To sit it out, on the bench, under the maple trees, and let the others run and glory, sweating, while we pick out patterns in the gravel, the tearing of the grass, devil twisters in the dust, and nod smiling encouragement over a coke. It seems so easy. *** |
Everybody at one time wants to be in on it -- the secret, we randomly reverie, must lie in there somewhere -- it looks wonderful to be out there, knocking them dead, cynosure, observed of all observers, admired by crowds, beating the tracks with quivering legs, the heavy sweat dying in deflations of exhaustion. That must hold the secret of happiness -- it looks so grand. Wouldn't it be fine to be out there, doing that -- being loved by everybody!  |
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