The Big World - Leonard Cohen

[aimlesswanderer.livejournal.com]

The Big World -- Leonard Cohen

The big world will find out
about this farm
the big world will learn
the details of what
I worked out in the can

And your curious life with me
will be told so often
that no one will believe
you grew old.

ee cummings, "the boys i mean are not refined"

[m-m-m-mother.livejournal.com]

the boys i mean are not refined
they go with girls who buck and bite
they do not give a fuck for luck
they hump them thirteen times a night

one hangs a hat upon her tit
one carves a cross on her behind
they do not give a shit for wit
the boys i mean are not refined

they come with girls who bite and buck
who cannot read and cannot write
who laugh like they would fall apart
and masturbate with dynamite

the boys i mean are not refined
they cannot chat of that and this
they do not give a fart for art
they kill like you would take a piss

they speak whatever's on their mind
they do whatever's in their pants
the boys i mean are not refined
they shake the mountains when they dance

If Death Is Kind

[eullipia.livejournal.com]

Perhaps if Death is kind, and there can be returning,
We will come back to earth some fragrant night,
And take these lanes to find the sea, and bending
Breathe the same honeysuckle, low and white.

We will come down at night to these resounding beaches
And the long gentle thunder of the sea,
Here for a single hour in the wide starlight
We shall be happy, for the dead are free.

Sarah Teasdale

"the world wakes up", andrew michael roberts

[turnyourankle.livejournal.com]

          So we stop at the side of the road, and there is the
largest tree and a long kiss with the hazard lights flashing.
          Everything is the beginning of something. A sycamore
seed, a windshield fogging up. The first fist of rain pounding
down.
          Come closer. Let's get our arms around each other and
count all the bones we can. Between us, we have rungs for a
ladder leading into the leaves and fingers left over for climbing.
Two tongues to perch there and sing while the world wakes up.
          What will we miss of our skin and gristle? Our
disengaged hearts.
          When you're finally no one, what else do you do but
call out your name?

(citations and bold print from the original piece)

[persephone-blue.livejournal.com]

why can't the english teach their children how to speak?

Daphne Gottlieb

Higgins: I can't turn your soul on.
Eliza: Have you tried?

Higgins: Leave me these feelings.
Eliza: Can you elaborate on that?

Higgins: You can take away the voice and the face.
Eliza: Oh, I can take away the voice and the face.

Higgins: They are not you.
Eliza: Would you like it if they were not not I?

Higgins: I care for life, for humanity.
Eliza: Can you elaborate on that?

Higgins: You are a part of it that has come my way.
Eliza: Why do you say your way?

Higgins: What more can you or anyone ask?
Eliza: Does that question interest you?

Higgins: You call me a brute.
Eliza: Oh, I call you a brute.

Higgins: You were a fool.
Eliza: Oh, I was a fool.

Higgins: I think a woman fetching a man's slippers is a disgusting sight.
Eliza: Can you elaborate on that?

Higgins: Did I ever fetch your slippers?
Eliza: Can you elaborate on that?

Higgins: I think a good deal more of you for throwing them in my face.
Eliza: Why do you say your face?

Higgins: No use slaving for me and then saying you want to be cared for.
Eliza: You are being a bit negative.

Higgins: Who cares for a slave?
( Eliza: Please go on. )

Poem & Request.

[acreofbones.livejournal.com]

I've found myself missing someone to unbearable degrees as of late, so I'm looking for some poems that would relate to a profound longing to rekindle a friendship. Any suggestions?

And finally --


After Persephone.

At a certain point, it didn't matter.
I commanded him to lead.
Farther. So far I was no longer me
Long before I was no longer safe.

I shed everything, save being.
There is a moment, even in the face
Of defeat, when the chase alone
Is enough. I lived quickly,

My whole life disappearing
From around me like a sound
That rises into the air and is gone
Without even an echo. After song

There is a pang. The heart in clench.
Then memory. Then retreat
Into the present. That silence.
Not emptiness, but weight.

I felt my steps marking the space
Where I must tread. Then it was I
Who led. Dragging us both
Into his world. It was real. More real

Even than what came after. 

Tracy K. Smith.