Wednesday, March 9, 2011

Poetry Wednesday

The Conch

You go
where I can’t follow and leave
a white seashell.

Cherish me, love me always
and never un-love me,
says the poor husk-thing,
outgrown by you.

Little hovel, passed among growers,
you will always be handled,
marveled for the blue blue blue
very bluegreen waters
all snug inside you.

Carry me around;
I am not uncommon, and will not be taken.
But I am home; a thing to be carried,
and outgrown.

Annnnnd something not-mine, which I love:

ordinary wind is winding (cold face blush
by e.e. cummings

ordinary wind is winding(cold face blush
wind is winding here there tomorrow)(
graceful dove wind
theatrical scar wind
struckwinding wind

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