Wednesday, September 14, 2011

Poetry Wednesday


there’s a boat
on the door of the house with little sails, it          Sails
awayfrom me as i get near
and my belt
it is a lasso


i am poor
and the kindness of the doorknob


i adore the way
the boat slows             so softly
and goes

                                     the tooth fairy is an angel.

Annnnnnnnnnnnnnnnd, something not-mine that I love:

somewhere i have never traveled,gladly beyond
by e.e. cummings

somewhere i have never traveled,gladly beyond
any experience,your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look easily will unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skilfully,mysteriously)her first rose

or if your wish be to close me, i and
my life will shut very beautifully ,suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;

nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility:whose texture
compels me with the color of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing

(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens;only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands

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