Intense my sense is intense in the way impassioning world-ringing singing

 



Intense

my sense is intense in the way

impassioning world-ringing singing

to brighten life's not-long day;

'tis no sin, I think, to so curse the brink

that imprisons visions of such kind

that sunlights the village's minds

thus to call it love ?Why-did-I-say-the-Word?

yet not absurd my wish

to kiss

before we're tossed into Death's Abyss. . .

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Letter to the Women in the Woods-here, WisdomWoods

Image
For every idea deemed true, there needs to be a dialectic where the idea is false; to make paradox in such a way builds a drama that logics cannot empower. This needs to be how I regard my fulfilling womanlinesses. . . In the same way that even cisWomen are not fully feminine, I have to esteem my happy progress in the right biopsychosocial direction as incomplete. Until with some growth and development I menstruate and bearchild, I shall ever always be on-the-outside looking into Divinity, the Holiness of every woman who greets me, shuns me, loves me and yes indeed hates me. The Girls are especially adept at the flux-of-nature designated here, there is almost always-- except by some pseudo-manly act of will to contradict-- a waning of the Light the RedFire of Passion. Romantic love wilts. In time some conjugal peace treaty heals the alienation that does occur when Romance gets tired, looks elsewhere. Yes when She-this-One-this-time leaves me, the understanding deepens, and so too does ...
Read more

I learn 'the Ropes,' I learn to dance; gifts from me you need-not. . .

 I learn 'the Ropes,' I learn to dance; gifts from me you need-not, do offend, and my best then would seem to obtain in yes watching I say in-repeat, and then as-if-in-a-situation you all of you need a Quixote to say a poem in a vaunt of prose. I have learned that Quixotes never get lady-fair, as she does not need a dangler to get so-crucified. Little signs that 'you have had enough of me' are skimpy; the Police, however, will violate me for violation of your persona; these Cops are usually as suckers (like I am too) for a chivalry that was in genesis a mere bully-violence, and now as I no longer want more police-beatings, I shall merely sit at the side of your tango girl2girl as in the womansroom when you chat-- in a way that men in mensroom never do-- about love and relations all punctuated by excretions and hand-washing. Now is the day after Yesterday; my lessons are getting inside me slowly, I am a fool and quixotic and so learn this tangodance slowly. I joy overjoy...
Read more

In this knee-ache, age 74+ at-birthstool-impossible in a MetroMob of cars&trux

 In this knee-ache, age 74+ at-birthstool-impossible in morrow @ a MetroMob of cars&trux a Louisville Kaintucked at window and indifferent blowby Howdy!less to this sis who looks ThePart (ThyPart, Girl, ReminderOfMother/TheGod of childbirths and stillbirths/and some marriages awhile avowed assiduously yet an after birth/happenstancely broken) AS NOW I SIT AS IF WAITING FOR A CALL/at cold Jan beckoning either a girlfriend befriending/or Cops copping arrestingly/a Sting. But nothing stings now, muchjilted and unable to birth children my whitening WinterWinkingWeal this Age I feel close chosen by Womb choosing Womb happy soon to let mushrooms growgravely y'know the afterlifeafterbirth TheEternityTheReturning EdenWard toward Reincarnation as fescue or OtherGrass (Something Mom cooks up, nothin spells lovin like somethin from HerOven!) O Womban I love You!
Read more