Jody Azzouni

Poetry

The Fallen Angel

Originally published in The Iconoclast 48, 1998
Added 12/19/2018
Download PDF

Send in Your Comments

The Fallen Angel

Poem | Jody's Notes

 

                                                                        Existence is a perfection. —Descartes

 

 

Being has had its way with me

and I am thick with the flesh of it.

I have packed away God-ish things

for they are not the case.

 

Like everything else

I am trapped by tautology:

I am here now.

Even so,

light has other aspirations:

no one can put a finger on it

and yet it seems to illuminate everything.

I see how every eye

is greedy for hallucination

and it pains me,

for once upon a time

I too was a joy to behold.

 

Museums are anathema to me,

for I am hopeless about perspective.

Smugly flat, the fat Rubens have it all.

By contrast, I am thingy in my rage:

I am jealous of holograms,

avoid mirrors, and scoff

at water’s impoverished transparency.

 

Nonexistence is a state of grace.

Without it, my nostalgia cannot violate logic.

Nonetheless

I am substantial in my reservations.