Danse Russe
by William Carlos Williams
If when my wife is sleeping
and the baby and Kathleen
are sleeping
and the sun is a flame-white disc
in silken mists
above shining trees,-
if I in my north room
dance naked, grotesquely
before my mirror
waving my shirt round my head
and singing softly to myself:
“I am lonely, lonely,
I was born to be lonely,
I am best so!”
If I admire my arms, my face,
my shoulders, flanks, buttocks
against the yellow drawn shades,-
Who shall say I am not
the happy genius of my household?
Manna of my Sight
by Austin Pfeiffer
Billowing high,
Bringing nourishment, to my foggy
Bright gaze,
Breath from heaven,
Bread in the heavens.
These clouds are made of bread.
There is an atmospheric yeast,
That swirls into
The dough of
The skies.
austin pfeiffer 