A very smart man I work with read my blog and, in response, sent me this poem. Thanks, sir.
May 24, 1980
I have braved, for want of wild beasts, steel cages, carved my term and nickname on bunks and rafters, lived by the sea, flashed aces in an oasis, dined with the-devil-knows-whom, in tails, on truffles.
From the height of a glacier I beheld half a world, the earthly width. Twice have drowned, thrice let knives rake my nitty-gritty.
Quit the country that bore and nursed me.
Those who forgot me would make a city.
I have waded the steppes that saw yelling Huns in saddles, worn the clothes nowadays back in fashion in every quarter, planted rye, tarred the roofs of pigsties and stables, guzzled everything save dry water.
I’ve admitted the sentries’ third eye into my wet and foul dreams. Munched the bread of exile; it’s stale and warty.
Granted my lungs all sounds except the howl; switched to a whisper. Now I am forty.
What should I say about my life? That it’s long and abhors transparence.
Broken eggs make me grieve; the omelet, though, makes me vomit.
Yet until brown clay has been rammed down my larynx, only gratitude will be gushing from it.– Joseph Brodsky
I hope to write my own poem when I am 40. Until then, this blog will be my practice and part of my gratitude. As for transparence, there is not much more than putting my life out for you to read here. Maybe that is one difference between 33 and 40 and is where Mr. Brodsky and I will differ…for now.