Re-reading a book of poems, the title of which is my name. Yes, I decided to read it for my name, and the timing of my re-reading is helpful and calming. Also I want to say “these poems were written for me!” as a poet who touches us often creates this feeling. But really, I do think these poems were written for me, and I am known. 🙂
Here are some of my favourite lines and stanzas.
Roses
[…]
what happens when the curtain goes
down and nothing stops it, not kissing,
not going to the mall, not the Super
Bowl.
Moments
[…]
There is nothing more pathetic than caution
when headlong might save a life
even, possibly, your own.
I Am Pleased to Tell You
[…]
Rumi, who has no trouble slipping out of
your long black coat, oh Mr. Death.
Leaves and Blossoms Along the Way
[…]
To understand many things you must reach
of your own condition.
Beauty can both shout and whisper, and still
it explains nothing.
The point is, you’re you, and that’s for keeps.
Nothing Is Too Small Not to Be Wondered About
[…]
He sings slower and slower.
Then, nothing.
This must mean something, I don’t know what.
But certainly it doesn’t
he hasn’t been an excellent cricket
all his life.
Humility
Poems arrive ready to begin.
Poets are only the transportation.
Not Anyone Who Says
[…]
but only those lovers who didn’t choose at all
but were, as it were, chosen
by something invisible
and powerful and uncontrollable
and beautiful and possibly even
unsuitable –
only those who know what I’m talking about
in this talking about love.
A House, or a Million Dollars
[…]
Love is the one thing the heart craves
and love is the one thing
you can’t steal.
Felicity
“Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing
there is a field. I’ll meet you there.” – Rumi
