by Dee Newman
Perhaps, it is necessary
to enjoy an occasional sense of superiority over oneself,
and yet, frankly, though necessity can be consoling,
I’d rather sit cross-legged in the grass and cry.
How, I wonder, can such a desirable quality
be so intensely unpleasant?
No doubt, there is some sort of
rational explanation for the absurdity.
The upshot of it is that it lies
somewhere between reason and rhyme,
and I have neither the inclination nor the time
to establish the precarious equilibrium
between such opposing impulses.
In fact, I’d rather be poised on the end of a pin
than to maintain that kind of serenity.