Heather D. Haigh, Morning Run
Delusions of Grandeur: A Cento
lines from the book Exit Opera by Kim Addonizio
Lynn Tait
Some days it feels like everything’s stupid.
The future–it looks suspiciously like the past.
Who knows what horror will greet us next.
Even the rain has started acting strange.
I want to forget where things are headed.
Maybe I can just lie here on the couch
looking holy and tormented;
some kind of thought experiment saying pointless things,
be the extinct civilization to a galaxy of historical trauma,
a cautionary tale full of song and misery,
be nectar in a bee-loud glade.
I always wanted to do that.
Forgive me. I know my soul is small.
I shouldn’t ask for so much in life.
From the poems “20.5 Lightyears from Earth,” “Divination,” “Paris,” “Predator Report,” “According to the Buddhists,” “Existential Elegy,” “In Assisi,” “Therefore I Am Nothing,” “Insomnia Song,” “Games People Play,” “Swoon,” “Traces,” “Blues on Avenue C,” “My Opera,” “Self-Portrait with a Statue of Fernando Pessoa”
lines from the book Exit Opera by Kim Addonizio
Lynn Tait
Some days it feels like everything’s stupid.
The future–it looks suspiciously like the past.
Who knows what horror will greet us next.
Even the rain has started acting strange.
I want to forget where things are headed.
Maybe I can just lie here on the couch
looking holy and tormented;
some kind of thought experiment saying pointless things,
be the extinct civilization to a galaxy of historical trauma,
a cautionary tale full of song and misery,
be nectar in a bee-loud glade.
I always wanted to do that.
Forgive me. I know my soul is small.
I shouldn’t ask for so much in life.
From the poems “20.5 Lightyears from Earth,” “Divination,” “Paris,” “Predator Report,” “According to the Buddhists,” “Existential Elegy,” “In Assisi,” “Therefore I Am Nothing,” “Insomnia Song,” “Games People Play,” “Swoon,” “Traces,” “Blues on Avenue C,” “My Opera,” “Self-Portrait with a Statue of Fernando Pessoa”