the kiss

...
My mouth blooms like a cut.
I've been wronged all year, tedious
nights, nothing but rough elbows in them
and delicate boxes of Kleenex calling crybaby
crybaby, you fool!
...
Before today my body was useless.
Now it's tearing at its square corners.
It's tearing old Mary's garments off, knot by knot
and see -- Now it's shot full of these electric bolts.
Zing! A resurrection!
...
Once it was a boat, quite wooden
and with no business, no salt water under it
and in need of some paint. It was no more
than a group of boards. But you hoisted her, rigged her.
She's been elected.
...
My nerves are turned on. I hear them like
musical instruments. Where there was silence
the drums, the strings are incurably playing. You did this.
Pure genius at work. Darling, the composer has stepped
into fire.
...
~ Anne Sexton

Come to my garden walk, my love

...

Come to my garden walk, my love. Pass by the fervid flowers that

press themselves on your sight. Pass them by, stopping at some

chance joy, which like a sudden wonder of sunset illumines, yet

eludes.

...

For a lover's gift is shy, it never tells its name, it flits

across the shade, spreading a shiver of joy along the dust.

Overtake it or miss it forever. But a gift that can be

grasped is merely a frail flower, or a lamp with a flame that will

flicker.

...

Rabindranath Tagore

.

The Elephant is Slow To Mate

The elephant, the huge old beast,
     is slow to mate;
he finds a female, they show no haste
     they wait

for the sympathy in their vast shy hearts
     slowly, slowly to rouse
as they loiter along the river-beds
     and drink and browse

and dash in panic through the brake
     of forest with the herd,
and sleep in massive silence, and wake
     together, without a word.
 

 So slowly the great hot elephant hearts
     grow full of desire,
and the great beasts mate in secret at last,
     hiding their fire.

Oldest they are and the wisest of beasts
     so they know at last
how to wait for the loneliest of feasts
     for the full repast.

They do not snatch, they do not tear;
     their massive blood
moves as the moon-tides, near, more near
     till they touch in flood.

D.H. Lawrence

Because the woman i love lives inside you,

I lean as close to your body with my words as i can-

and I think of you all the time..

 

~ Hafiz

.

If you use your mind

.

If you use your mind to study reality,

you won't understand either your mind or reality.

If you study reality without using your mind,

you'll understand both.

.

~ Bodhidharma

 

if i have made,my lady,intricate

if i have made,my lady,intricate

imperfect various things chiefly which wrong 

your eyes(frailer than most deep dreams are frail) 

songs less firm than your body's whitest song 

upon my mind-if i have failed to snare 

the glance too shy-if through my singing slips 

the very skillful strangeness of your smile 

the keen primeval silence of your hair 

-let the world say "his most wise music stole 

nothing from death"- 

you only will create 

(who are so perfectly alive)my shame: 

lady through whose profound and fragile lips 

the sweet small clumsy feet of April came 

into the ragged meadow of my soul. 

~ e.e.cummings

I am much too alone in this world

... 

...

I am much too alone in this world, yet not alone enough to truly consecrate the hour. I am much too small in this world, yet not small enough to be to you just object and thing, dark and smart. I want my free will and want it accompanying the path which leads to action; and want during times that beg questions, where something is up, to be among those in the know, or else be alone. I want to mirror your image to its fullest perfection, never be blind or too old to uphold your weighty wavering reflection. I want to unfold. Nowhere I wish to stay crooked, bent; for there I would be dishonest, untrue. I want my conscience to be true before you; want to describe myself like a picture I observed for a long time, one close up, like a new word I learned and embraced, like the everyday jug, like my mother's face, like a ship that carried me along through the deadliest storm.

~ Rainer Maria Rilke

.

up into the silence the green

up into the silence the green

silence with a white earth in it

you will(kiss me)go

out into the morning the young

morning with a warm world in it

(kiss me)you will go

on into the sunlight the fine

sunlight with a firm day in it

you will go(kiss me

down into your memory and

a memory and memory

i)kiss me,(will go)

~ e.e.cummings 

To me, every hour of the light and dark is a miracle

.

... 

To me, every hour of the light and dark is a miracle,
Every cubic inch of space is a miracle,
Every square yard of the surface of the earth is spread with the same,
Every foot of the interior swarms with the same;
Every spear of grass - the frames, limbs, organs, of men and women, and all that concerns them,
All these to me are unspeakably perfect miracles.
...
~ Walt Whitman
.

I love you. ... he could not resist reading it once again

...

He rolled up the completed bundle of work and slid it into the pneumatic tube. Eight minutes had gone by. He re-adjusted his spectacles on his nose, sighed, and drew the next batch of work towards him, with the scrap of paper on top of it. He flattened it out. On it was written, in a large unformed handwriting:

...

I love you.
...

For several seconds he was too stunned even to throw the incriminating thing into the memory hole. When he did so, although he knew very well the danger of showing too much interest, he could not resist reading it once again, just to make sure that the words were really there.
...

~ George Orwell, from 1984

It's up in the morning and on the downs

.

It's up in the morning and on the downs

Little white clouds like gambolling lambs

And I am breathless over you

And the red-breasted robin beats his wings

His throat it trembles when he sings

For he is helpless before you

The happy hooded bluebells bow

And bend their heads all a-down

Heavied by the early morning dew

At the whispering stream, at the bubbling brook

The fishes leap up to take a look

For they are breathless over you

Still your hands

And still your heart

Still your face comes shining through

And all the morning glows anew

Still your mind

Still your soul

For still, the fare of love is true

And I am breathless without you

The wind circles among the trees

And it bangs about the new-made leaves

For it is breathless without you

The fox chases the rabbit round

The rabbit hides beneath the ground

For he is defenseless without you

The sky of daytime dies away

And all the earthly things they stop to play

For we are all breathless without you

I listen to my juddering bones

The blood in my veins and the wind in my lungs

And I am breathless without you

Still your hands

And still your heart

For still your face comes shining through

And all the morning glows anew

Still your soul

Still your mind

Still, the fire of love is true

And I am breathless without you

~  Nick Cave

.

 
        .

.

...

~  love is never wasted.

...

~ Cervantes

.

But pleasures are like poppies spread

.

...

But pleasures are like poppies spread:

You seize the flow'r, its bloom is shed;

Or like the snow falls in the river,

A moment white then melts for ever ...

...

~ Robert Burns

.

They can be like a sun, words

.

...

...
They can be like a sun, words

They can do for the heart

what light can

for a field.

...

~ St. John of the Cross

.

Tender words we spoke

Tender words we spoke

to one another

are sealed

in the secret vaults of heaven.

. 

One day like rain,

they will fall to earth

and grow green

all over the world.
 .

~ Rumi
.