It rains
and it rains and it rains the things I haven’t said.
Navigating by the Light of a Minor Planet, Jessica Goodfellow
It rains
and it rains and it rains the things I haven’t said.
Navigating by the Light of a Minor Planet, Jessica Goodfellow
“Mattina” (1917)
M’illumino
d’immenso
(I flood myself with the light
of the immense)
Giuseppe Ungaretti
In other words: Fiat lux.
This is as far as the light
of my understanding
has carried me:
an October morning
a canoe built by hand
a quiet currentabove me the trees arc
green and golden
against a cloudy skybelow me the river responds
with perfect reflection
a hundred feet deep
a hundred feet high.To take a cup of this river
to drink its purple and gray
its golden and greento see
a bend in the river up ahead
and still
say
yes.
In the dark of December
A magical thing
And sweet to remember.
‘We are nearer to Spring
Than we were in September,’
I heard a bird sing
In the dark of December.[Oliver Herford]
You have played,
(I think)
And broke the toys you were fondest of,
And are a little tired now;
Tired of things that break, and—
Just tired.
So am I.
E.E. Cummings, You are tired, (I think)
Do you remember when we met
in Gomorrah? When you were still beardless,
and I would oil my hair in the lamp light before seeing
you, when we were young, and blushed with youth
like bruised fruit. Did we care then
what our neighbors did
in the dark?
When our first daughter was born
on the River Jordan, when our second
cracked her pink head from my body
like a promise, did we worry
what our friends might be
doing with their tongues?
What new crevices they found
to lick love into or strange flesh
to push pleasure from, when we
called them Sodomites then,
all we meant by it
was neighbor.
When the angels told us to run
from the city, I went with you,
but even the angels knew
that women always look back.
Let me describe for you, Lot,
what your city looked like burning
since you never turned around to see it.
Sulfur ran its sticky fingers over the skin
of our countrymen. It smelled like burning hair
and rancid eggs. I watched as our friends pulled
chunks of brimstone from their faces. Is any form
of loving this indecent?
Cover your eyes tight,
husband, until you see stars, convince
yourself you are looking at Heaven.
Because any man weak enough to hide his eyes while his neighbors
are punished for the way they love deserves a vengeful god.
I would say these things to you now, Lot,
but an ocean has dried itself on my tongue.
So instead I will stand here, while my body blows itself
grain by grain back over the Land of Canaan.
I will stand here
and I will watch you
run.
everything is changing, can’t you feel that?
The blue river is grey at morning
and evening. There is twilight
at dawn and dusk. I lie in the dark
wondering if this quiet in me now
is a beginning or an end.
Happy Birthday to Mr. E.E. Cummings.
(Who did not, in fact, prefer to have his own name written out in all lowercase letters.)
One of my favorite phrases to describe the excitement of new love: “so quite new a thing,” indeed.
(Source: tldr-reigns)
What you give me is
the extraordinary sun
splashing its light
into astonished trees.
This photograph reminds me of Levertov’s “Love Poem”.