Jody Azzouni


The Fallen Angel

Originally published in The Iconoclast 48, 1998
Added 8/10/2020
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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.


I am substantial in my reservations.