Showing posts with label jazz age poetry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label jazz age poetry. Show all posts

Friday, October 12, 2012

Are we there yet? . . . Are we there yet?

Coda

Dorothy Parker

There’s little in taking or giving,
  There’s little in water or wine;
This living, this living, this living
  Was never a project of mine.
 
 
 
 
 
Oh, hard is the struggle, and sparse is
  The gain of the one at the top,
For art is a form of catharsis,
  And love is a permanent flop,
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
And work is the province of cattle,
  And rest’s for a clam in a shell,
 
 
 
 
 
So I’m thinking of throwing the battle—
  Would you kindly direct me to hell?