January 2011
7 posts
“The swift red flesh, a winter king—
Who squired the glacier woman down...”
– Hart Crane, from The Bridge: II. Powhatan’s Daughter
“yes is a pleasant country:
if’s wintry
(my lovely)
let’s open the...”
– e.e. cummings
when we lie on the couch watching reruns of funny...
blanket wrapped around
sharing is caring, daring
to be not alone
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only...
a single stroke of strange light streaks across her face
she smiles as if it’s the first time
i yawn and rub my hazy eyes
waking up with her has its very own pace
a hug and a kiss as the sun lightens the mood of the room
a sigh and a giggle while i stand up to get dressed