My son, my executioner-Donald Hall
My son, my executioner
I take you in my arms
Quiet and small and just astir
and whom my body warms
Sweet death, small son,
our instrument of immortality,
your cries and hunger document
our bodily decay.
We twenty two and twenty five,
who seemed to live forever,
observe enduring life in you
and start to die together.
~~~Donald Hall
Im glad to see another Donald Hall fan
There are so many relatively unknown poets who never got their due, who spoke so sweet and succinctly.
Another poet, Vaquel Lindsay, who authored "The Leaden Eyed" is another poet that remains basically little known....
"not that they die,
but that they die like sheep"
V. Lindsay
:cool: