Goodreads helps you follow your favorite authors. Be the first to learn about new releases!
Start by following Alfred Corn.
Showing 1-1 of 1
“Whether
Whether anger quickens a lagging stride,
and periodic burn-offs in the forest
revitalize exhausted soil and flora—.
Whether we should take pleasure in the wildcat
jubilation of a lightning bolt
that whips its silver vein of genesis
through the night sky, flash-photo of a white
birch upended, the root-system buckled
to swollen thunderheads—. And whether naming
an offense amounts to sour grapes and common
bitterness, or even the conceited nonsense
of unwashed yahoo multitudes, a yawping
insult to civilized behavior—. Whether
a July rainstorm, even when it drenches
the unprepared pedestrian and befuddles
traffic, might be extravagant, a joy,
like the whoops and escalating bop glissandos
of Gillespie’s upraised horn, cascading pitches
a countersong to meteoric chalk marks
Perseids burn across the House of Leo—.
And whether peaceful ecstasy might float
up from a fifteen-second avalanche
reflected in the skier’s goggles, his jacket
a spark of scarlet on the topmost slope,
waiting for the homeward track to clear.”
― Contradictions
Whether anger quickens a lagging stride,
and periodic burn-offs in the forest
revitalize exhausted soil and flora—.
Whether we should take pleasure in the wildcat
jubilation of a lightning bolt
that whips its silver vein of genesis
through the night sky, flash-photo of a white
birch upended, the root-system buckled
to swollen thunderheads—. And whether naming
an offense amounts to sour grapes and common
bitterness, or even the conceited nonsense
of unwashed yahoo multitudes, a yawping
insult to civilized behavior—. Whether
a July rainstorm, even when it drenches
the unprepared pedestrian and befuddles
traffic, might be extravagant, a joy,
like the whoops and escalating bop glissandos
of Gillespie’s upraised horn, cascading pitches
a countersong to meteoric chalk marks
Perseids burn across the House of Leo—.
And whether peaceful ecstasy might float
up from a fifteen-second avalanche
reflected in the skier’s goggles, his jacket
a spark of scarlet on the topmost slope,
waiting for the homeward track to clear.”
― Contradictions




