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What is this I see in my spam folder? Why, it's my first swine flu medication spam! -
Poetry Month day 30
Cat's Dream
How neatly a cat sleeps,
sleeps with its paws and its posture,
sleeps with its wicked claws,
and with its unfeeling blood,
sleeps with all the rings--
a series of burnt circles--
which have formed the odd geology
of its sand-colored tail.
I should like to sleep like a cat,
with all the fur of time,
with a tongue ( Read more... ) -
Poetry Month day 29
The Seven Of Pentacles
Under a sky the color of pea soup
she is looking at her work growing away there
actively, thickly like grapevines or pole beans
as things grow in the real world, slowly enough.
If you tend them properly, if you mulch, if you water,
if you provide birds that eat insects a home and winter food,
if the sun shines and you pick off ( Read more... ) -
Poetry Month day 28
To A Teacher
[Dedicated to A. M. Klein (1909-1972)]
Hurt once and for all into silence.
A long pain ending without a song to prove it.
Who could stand beside you so close to Eden,
When you glinted in every eye the held-high
razor, shivering every ram and son?
And now the silent loony bin, where
The shadows live in the rafters like
( Read more... ) -
Poetry Month day 27
I Had A Dove
I had a dove and the sweet dove died;
And I have thought it died of grieving:
O, what could it grieve for? Its feet were tied,
With a silken thread of my own hand's weaving;
Sweet little red feet! why should you die-
Why should you leave me, sweet bird! why?
You liv'd alone in the forest-tree,
Why, pretty thing! would ( Read more... ) -
Poetry Month day 26
LESSONS OF THE WAR
II. JUDGING DISTANCES
Not only how far away, but the way that you say it
Is very important. Perhaps you may never get
The knack of judging a distance, but at least you know
How to report on a landscape: the central sector,
The right of the arc and that, which we had last Tuesday,
And at least you know
That ( Read more... ) -
Poetry Month day 25
The Teasers
Not but they die, the teasers and the dreams,
Not but they die,
and tell the careful flood
To give them what they clamour for and why.
You could not fancy where they rip to blood
You could not fancy
nor that mud
I have heard speak that will not cake or dry.
Our claims to act appear so small to these
Our claims to act
colder ( Read more... ) -
Poetry Month day 24
Fowles in the Frith
Fowles in the frith,
The fisshes in the flood,
And I mon waxe wood
Much sorwe I walke with
For beste of boon and blood
Anon
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Poetry month day 23
The World is Too Much With Us
The world is too much with us; late and soon,
Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers;
Little we see in Nature that is ours;
We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon!
This Sea that bares her bosom to the moon;
The winds that will be howling at all hours,
And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers,
( Read more... ) -
Poetry month day 22
I Am The Song
I am the song that sings the bird.
I am the leaf that grows the land.
I am the tide that moves the moon.
I am the stream that halts the sand.
I am the cloud that drives the storm.
I am the earth that lights the sun.
I am the fire that strikes the stone.
I am the clay that shapes the hand.
I am the word that speaks ( Read more... )