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Weldon Kees - The Climate Of Danger
Work rating: Low

The middle is the place to stand 
If there can be one solid spot, 
Undoubted, in that damaged land. 
Two schools exist; one says there is 
No region lacking hazard, pain, 
And fear; the other mentions plains 
         Enclosed 
         For those 
Wanting more than the perfumed rose. 


On one hand, birds and trained baboons 
Polish the atmosphere with words 
Like slate, rasping and grey. Their moons 
Are sterile as their eyes, dull marbles, 
Damp and cavern-caught. And evenings 
Spread through days of easy grief: 
         The fall 
         Of all 
Grins from a shaky pedestal. 


And on the other, absolutes 
Disguised as gods in masks of print 
Poke into ruins and dispute 
Arrival of the perished hour, 
Past and dead—one they await 
Hysterically, to penetrate, 
         And guide 
         With pride 
To unexpected suicide.
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