Friday, January 3, 2014

"Poem" by Paul Klee

The big animals : despondent 
at table : unsated. 

But the small cunning flies 
scrambling up slopes of bread 
inherit Buttertown. 


There is 
only one 
true thing :

in the self 
a weight, 
a small 


An eye 
that sees. 
Another eye 
that feels. 


Man-Animal : 
Clock of Blood. 


The moon 
in the railway station : one of the many 
lights in the forest ; a drop 
in the mountain's beard : 
that it doesn't trickle ! 
that it is not pierced by the cactus thorn ! 
that you 
do not sneeze, and 
this bladder !

(From his diary, written in 1914, probably soon after war had been declared.)

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