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2 poems by Donald Illich
Business Life |
My haircut is a brand new business. Outside the barbershop window
onlookers hope to catch
the black strands of Samson
retiring into business life.
No more collapsing columns
of poetry, attracting women
and lions who come with
scissors and fangs to eat me.
No more boss' bad looks
or rotting sonnets in the slush
piles. My cubicle hates hippies.
We drink plastic from plastic cups.
|
Unflinching Light |
Notice how the light does funny things when you jiggle your perspective
from man clinging to a jet engine
to an admiral sinking in a boat.
The sharks are beautiful. How do
fins and fangs thrive in the wild,
spraying blood from their jaws
like blossoms. Their circling dance,
with you about to fall in the middle,
hypnotizes, unlike the sheer
terror you feel on a flexing wing,
which the mother bird knows will
break up long before a return to
the nest is possible. The light
on both is unflinching, won't turn
away from how you were pumped
out of blood, permanently hollowed.
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