My age is an heroic one and I'll
enjoy it after idling for a while
beside your whispers, moistened with our own
passion in a conversational tone.
SAPPHIC FRAGMENTS
Because of my pain
she wrote.
The rest
is
gone.
Editors, blinder than Homer, fire,
water, rot, monks, the rotten
bishop, St. Gregory of Nazi
anzos,
mummy wrappers, perverse, preserved
only this. Imagine
Because of
Achilles' wrath
Imagine the rest.
Her silence, the silence of women, fascinates.
It
and her
Garlands of celery
makes
a mad scene, an entire
Hamlet
but
with men left out-Queen Gertrude and Ophelia.
(We shall give,' said the father
could be her
Lear.
But what of
As long as you wish?
Who speaks, who sacrifices herself and suffers until
Unexpectedly?
Everything is.
Even
The queenly dawn.
Everything
is unexpectedly because of her pain.
AI Lee
David R.
Slav
itt
