Bad poetry compels me <br />to contemplate seppuku, <br />to pluck out my corneas, <br />to drink myself blind, <br />to gaze into Medusa’s eyes. <br /> <br />But, William Blake <br />still transports me <br />on dragon's wings <br />to worlds sublime; <br /> <br />Then I see <br />what I've never seen, <br />always known, <br />but never said; <br /> <br />I contemplate the age old mystery, <br />the unvarnished human form divine <br />devil child as well as angel <br />saint and sinner <br />love and hate.<br /><br />William Jackson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/on-dragon-s-wings/
