Sunday, January 30, 2011

A Kiss Which Can Never Be Undone

Photo by D.R. Wagner, Elk Grove

—Kenneth Koch

One day the Nouns were clustered in the street.
An Adjective walked by, with her dark beauty.
The Nouns were struck, moved, and created the Sentence.

Each Sentence says one thing—for example, "Although it was
   a dark rainy day when the Adjective walked by, I shall
   remember the pure and sweet expression on her face until
   the day I perish from the green, effective earth."
Or, "Will you please close the window, Andrew?"
Or, for example, "Thank you, the pink pot of flowers on the
   window sill has changed color recently to a light yellow,
   due to the heat from the boiler factory which exists nearby."

In the springtime the Sentences and Nouns lay silently on the grass.
A lonely Conjunction here and there would call, "And! But!"
But the Adjective did not emerge.

As the adjective is lost in the sentence,
So am I lost in your eyes, ears, nose, and throat—
You have enchanted me with a single kiss
Which can never be undone
Until the destruction of language.


—Medusa, who woke up to about eight inches of snow this morning after running around in bare feet yesterday

Photo by D. R. Wagner