Danse Russe
If I when my wife is sleeping
are sleeping
and the sun is a flame-white disc
in silken mists
above shining trees,--
if I in my north room
dance naked, grotesquely
before my mirror
waving my shirt round my head
and singing softly to myself:
"I am lonely, lonely.
I was born to be lonely,
I am best so!"
If I admire my arms, my face,
my shoulders, flanks, buttocks
again the yellow drawn shades,—
Who shall say I am not
the happy genius of my household?
—William Carlos Williams
How could I not have read that in so many years that it's forgotten? Now, that was a strange sentence, wasn't it? I am so grateful that you posted this today -- thank you.
ReplyDeleteStrange sentences aside (and it really wasn't that strange), I'm glad to bring it to mind for you again. This poem sustained me through many early years, and it's been years since it called out to me, but through the magic of things known and unknown, it chose today to do that.
ReplyDeleteGlad for our connection here.
xo