to sum up my feelings:
Somewhere a seed falls to the ground
That will become a tree That will some day be felled
From which thin shafts will be extracted To be made into arrows To be fitted with warheads
One of which, some day when you least expect it,
While a winter sun is shining On a river of ice
And you feel farthest from self-pity,
Will pierce your shit-filled heart.
UNWRITTEN LAW
Interesting how we fall in love:
in my case, absolutely. Absolutely, and, alas, often-
so it was in my youth.
And always with rather boyish men- unformed, sullen, or shyly kicking the dead leaves:
in the manner of Balanchine.
Nor did I see them as versions of the same thing.
I, with my inflexible Platonism, my fierce seeing of only one thing at a time:
I ruled against the indefinite article.
And yet, the mistakes of my youth made me hopeless,
because they repeated themselves,
as is commonly true.
But in you I felt something beyond the archetype-
a true expansiveness, a buoyance and love of the earth utterly alien to my nature.
To my credit, I blessed my good fortune in you.
Blessed it absolutely, in the manner of those months.
And you in your wisdom and cruelty
gradually taught me the meaninglessness of that term.
wishes for sons
i wish them cramps.
i wish them a strange town and the last tampon.
i wish them no 7-11.
i wish them one week early and wearing a white skirt.
i wish them one week late.
later i wish them hot flashes and clots like you wouldn't believe.
let the flashes come when they meet someone special.
let the clots come when they want to.
let them think they have accepted arrogance in the universe,
then bring them to gynecologists not unlike themselves.
That will become a tree That will some day be felled
From which thin shafts will be extracted To be made into arrows To be fitted with warheads
One of which, some day when you least expect it,
While a winter sun is shining On a river of ice
And you feel farthest from self-pity,
Will pierce your shit-filled heart.
UNWRITTEN LAW
Interesting how we fall in love:
in my case, absolutely. Absolutely, and, alas, often-
so it was in my youth.
And always with rather boyish men- unformed, sullen, or shyly kicking the dead leaves:
in the manner of Balanchine.
Nor did I see them as versions of the same thing.
I, with my inflexible Platonism, my fierce seeing of only one thing at a time:
I ruled against the indefinite article.
And yet, the mistakes of my youth made me hopeless,
because they repeated themselves,
as is commonly true.
But in you I felt something beyond the archetype-
a true expansiveness, a buoyance and love of the earth utterly alien to my nature.
To my credit, I blessed my good fortune in you.
Blessed it absolutely, in the manner of those months.
And you in your wisdom and cruelty
gradually taught me the meaninglessness of that term.
wishes for sons
i wish them cramps.
i wish them a strange town and the last tampon.
i wish them no 7-11.
i wish them one week early and wearing a white skirt.
i wish them one week late.
later i wish them hot flashes and clots like you wouldn't believe.
let the flashes come when they meet someone special.
let the clots come when they want to.
let them think they have accepted arrogance in the universe,
then bring them to gynecologists not unlike themselves.