by John Ciardi
I. Firing Tracers
When I was dangerous tracers leaped from me.
What a wild fountain I sprayed at the zodiac
Falling how-many-colored to sea-dark
Of the world's body under, where powerfiully
I rode it and rode it done. "Look, Mother, how gay
And luminous a sperm I spend in play!"
II. Being Fired At
When I was danger's the tracers' endless
Jeweled cobra struck at my running tomb
In a cloud. How chaste and sweet a womb
I covered in to praise its luminous
Waver and fall from power. And as it fell,
How deep an egg I curled in very well.
Last updated March 01, 2023