Thursday, March 28, 2013
Sunday, March 24, 2013
growing
I will remain as I am and come to you
In your voice there is grace and aptitude
But the droves of games puzzle me
I stop my words. Ah hard loud full stops.
Forgive me.
Thursday, March 21, 2013
A Jelly-Fish by Marianne Moore
Visible, invisible,
a fluctuating charm
an amber-tinctured amethyst
inhabits it, your arm
approaches and it opens
and it closes; you had meant
to catch it and it quivers;
you abandon your intent.
Poetry by Marianne Moore
I, too, dislike it.
Reading it, however, with a perfect contempt for it, one discovers in
it, after all, a place for the genuine.
Anecdote of the Prince of Peacocks by Wallace Stevens (1923)
In the moonlight
I met Berserk,
In the moonlight
On the bushy plain.
Oh, sharp he was
As the sleepless!
And, "Why are you red
In this milky blue?"
I said.
"Why sun-colored,
As if awake
In the midst of sleep?"
"You that wander,"
So he said,
"On the bushy plain,
Forget so soon.
But I set my traps
In the midst of dreams."
I knew from this
That the blue ground
Was full of blocks
And blocking steel.
I knew the dread
Of the bushy plain,
And the beauty
Of the moonlight
Falling there,
Falling
As sleep falls
In the innocent air.