Fly-a-Thon, Two

THE FLY
—Ogden Nash

God in his wisdom made the fly
And then forgot to tell us why.

_______________________

I heard a fly buzz when I died;
The stillness round my form
Was like the stillness in the air
Between the heaves of storm.

The eyes beside had wrung them dry,
And breaths were gathering sure
For that last onset, when the king
Be witnessed in his power.

I willed my keepsakes, signed away
What portion of me I
Could make assignable,—and then
There interposed a fly,

With blue, uncertain, stumbling buzz,
Between the light and me;
And then the windows failed, and then
I could not see to see.

—Emily Dickinson

_______________________

NULLA FIDES
—Patrick Carey (1623-1657)

For God's sake mark that fly:
See what a poor, weak, little thing it is.
When thou hast marked, and scorned it, know that this,
This little, poor, weak fly
Has killed a pope; can make an emp'ror die.

Behold yon spark of fire:
How little hot! how near to nothing 'tis!
When thou hast done despising, know that this,
This contemned spark of fire,
Hast burnt whole towns; can burn a world entire.

That crawling worm there see:
Ponder how ugly, filthy, vile it is.
When thou hast seen and loathed it, know that this,
This base worm thou dost see,
Has quite devoured thy parents; shall eat thee.

Honor, the world, and man,
What trifles are they; since most true it is
That this poor fly, this little spark, this
So much abhorred worm, can
Honor destroy; burn worlds; devour up man.

_______________________

THE SHITTY LIFE OF A FLY
—Vincent Turner

i was born in shit,
lived in shit,
procreated in shit,
and died in shit.

_______________________

THE DEATH OF A FLY
—Russell Edson

There was once a man who disguised himself as a
housefly and went about the neighborhood depositing
flyspecks.

Well, he has to do something hasn't he? said someone to
someone else.

Of course, said someone else back to someone.

Then what's all the fuss? said someone to someone else.

Who's fussing? I'm just saying that if he doesn't get off the
wall of that building the police will have to shoot him off.

Oh that, of course, there's nothing so engaging as a dead
fly.

I love dead flies, the way they remind me of individuals
who have met their fate . . .

________________________

—Medusa

Medusa encourages poets of all ilk and ages to send their poetry and announcements of Northern California poetry events to kathykieth@hotmail.com for posting on this daily Snake blog. Rights remain with the poets. Previously-published poems are okay for Medusa’s Kitchen, as long as you own the rights. (Please cite publication.)