The Professor

The pen says PILOT.
today “to be is to be perceived”
as well as-“man is God obliquely”.
We write it all exactly.

A bottle green insect stirs,
tiny dotted being, undulating in hand,
watching the tittles- as the chalk turns
raises its arms, a dazzling example-
scales my fist
with broken wing.

I learn the movement.
It is almost an ascent-
but just as suddenly
descent- a helpless plunge
towards colorless sheet.

Calmly- he sticks his neck out
against the roaring of-
“is the Romantic Poet misunderstood”?
-and tries again. God! I have killed it.

The Professor

aperollshowers

Joined January 2008

  • Artist
    Notes

Artist's Description

Obviously, this poem is about the death of my professor- a small bug who was accidentally slaughtered during a tedious lecture in metaphysics.

Tags

poetry

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