Monday, August 27, 2012

The Red Wheelbarrow

so much depends upon a red wheel barrow glazed wih rain water beside the white chickens William Carlos Williams

Thursday, April 7, 2011

The Ruins of the Heart, Rumi

In the house of mud and water, my heart has fallen into ruin, Enter this house, my love, or let me leave.

Sunday, July 25, 2010

Gacela of Unforseen Love, by Lorca

No one understood the perfume
of the dark magnolia of your womb.
Nobody knew that you tormented
a hummingbird of love between your teeth.

A thousand Persian little horses fell asleep
in the plaza with moon of your forehead,
while through four nights I embraced
your waist, enemy of snow.

Between plaster and jasmine, your glance
was a pale branch of seeds.
I sought in my heart to give you
the ivory letters that say "siempre",

"siempre", "siempre" : garden of my agony,
your body elusive always,
that blood of your veins in my mouth,
your mouth already lightness for my death.

Written by Frederico Garcia Lorca

Friday, May 7, 2010

Susanna Lay ...


In the green water, clear and warm
Susanna lay.
She searched
The touch of springs,
And found
Concealed imaginings.
She sighed,
For so much melody.

Upon the bank, she stood
In the cool
Of spent emotions.
She felt, among the leaves.
The dew
Of old devotions.

She walked upon the grass,
Still quavering.
The winds were like her maids,
On timid feet,
Fetching her woven scarves,
Yet wavering.

A breath upon her hand
Muted the night.
She turned -
A cymbal crashed,
And roaring horns.

[Peter Quince at the Clavier]
Written by Wallace Stevens

Sunday, April 4, 2010

love letter, sylvia plath

Not easy to state the change you made.
If I'm alive now, then I was dead,
Though, like a stone, unbothered by it,
Saying but according to habit.
You didn't just toe me an inch, no-
Nor leave me to set my small bald eye
Skyward again, without hope, of course,
Of apprehending blueness, or stars.

And I slept like a bent finger.
The first thing I saw was sheer air
And the locked drops rising in dew
Limid as spirits. Many stones lay
Dense and expressionless round about.
I didn't know what to make of it.
I shone, mica-scalded, and unfolded
To pour myself out like fluid
Among bird feet and the stems of plants.
I wasn't fooled. I knew you at once.

Tree and stone glittered without shadows.
My finger-length grew lucid as glass.
I started to bud like a March twig:
An arm and a leg, an arm, a leg.
From stone to cloud, so I ascended.
Now I resemble a sort of god
Floating through the air in my soul-shift
Pure as a pane of ice. It's a gift.

Written by other-worldly Sylvia Plath

Oh! I utterly adore this poem.

Saturday, February 13, 2010

Kavya: From the Sanskirt, Octavio Paz

Confidence: Confusion

At the side of the Bed
the knot came undone by itself,
and barely held by the sash
The robe slipped to my waist.
My friend, it is all I know: I was in his arms
and I can not remember who was who
or what we did or how.


Tuesday, December 22, 2009