Litkicks Message Board Archive

poem not by me

Posted to Poetry and Politics




What strange pleasure do they get who'd

wipe whole worlds out,

ANYTHING,
to end our lives, our

wild idleness?

But we have charms against their rage-
must go on saying, "Look
if nobody tried to live this way,
all the work of the world would be in vain."

And now and then a son, a daughter, hears it.

NOw and then a son, a daughter

gets away

-Lew Welch "This Book is for Magda"