Imprints, love

Imprints: Mary Mackey’s Poetry

The Kama Sutra of Kindness: Position No. 2

“should I greet you
as if
we had merely eaten
together one night
when the white birches
dripped wet
and lightning etched
black trees on your walls?
it is not love
I am asking
love comes from years
of breathing
skin to skin
tangled in each other’s dreams
until each night
weaves another thread
in the same web
of blood and sleep
and I have only
passed through you quickly
like light
and you have only
surrounded me suddenly
like flame
the lake is cold
the snows are sudden
the wild cherry bends
and winter’s a burden
in your hand I feel
spring burn in the bud.”

Mary Mackey 1987
From “The Dear Dance of Eros”

The Kama Sutra of Kindness: Position Number 3

“It’s easy to love
through a cold spring
when the poles
of the willows
turn green
pollen falls like
a yellow curtain
and the scent of
Paper Whites
clots
the air
but to love for a lifetime
takes talent
you have to mix yourself
with the strange
beauty of someone
else
wake each morning
for 72,000
mornings in
a row so
breathed and
bound and
tangled
that you can hardly
sort out
your arms
and
legs
you have to
find forgiveness
in everything
even ink stains
and broken
cups
you have be willing to move through
life
together
the way the long
grasses move
in a field
when you careen
blindly toward
the other
side
there’s never going to be anything
straight or predictable
about your path
except the
flattening
and the springing
back
you just go on walking for years
hand in hand
waist deep in the weeds
bent slightly forward
like two question
marks
and all the while it
burns
my dear
it burns beautifully above
you
and goes on
burning
like a relentless
sun”
Mary Mackey, 2006
From “Breaking The Fever”

Painting: Owen Gent

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Imprints

Imprints: Bashō

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Imprints

“Evening Song” by Gottfried Keller

Eyes my dear little windows,
Give me a little longer the fairest glows of vision
Be kind, let the images in,
For someday you shall grow dim!

No sooner shall the light have ceased
And the tired lids close than the soul shall have peace;
She will fumbling take off her walking shoes
And lay her down in the coffin’s gloom.

Still, she will see two glimmering sparks,
Like two little stars in the inner dark,
‘ Till they, too, waver and finally die,
As though by the wing of a butterfly

And still will I roam in the evening fields,
With only the sinking star for a friend;
Drink in, oh eyes, all your lashes can hold
Of the golden abundance of the world!

For Hermann Rorchach, a light dimmed out to soon.

Art Gustva Klimt

 

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Baking/Writing/Reading

Sunday’s Apple Chips & Funny Sex Tale

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Imprints: Robinson Jeffers

Imprints: Inscription For A Gravestone by Robinson Jeffers

Inspired by Jeffers work lately.  Sharing a favorite…

I am not dead, I have only become inhuman:

That is to say,

Undressed myself of laughable prides and infirmities,

But not as a man

Undresses to creep into bed, but like an athlete

Stripping for the race.

The delicate ravel of nerves that made me a measurer

Of certain fictions

Called good and evil; that made me contract with pain

And expand with pleasure;

Fussily adjusted like a little electroscope:

That’s gone, it is true;

(I never miss it; if the universe does,

How easily replaced!)

But all the rest is heightened, widened, set free.

I admired the beauty

While I was human, now I am part of the beauty.

I wander in the air,

Being mostly gas and water, and flow in the ocean;

Touch you and Asia

At the same moment; have a hand in the sunrises

And the glow of this grass.

I left the light precipitate of ashes to earth

For a love-token.

By : Robinson Jeffers

Photo by: Naomi Ruth

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Imprints, Imprints: Emily Dickinson

My Tardy Name- Em D. Chisels My Past Moons

The yearning and anguish always familiar in Em’s poems. She described my many nights. Her words always nestled my fragile heart as a teen. No doubt a goddess to poetry.

Emily Dickinson (1830–86)

Part Four: Time and Eternity

I SHOULD not dare to leave my friend,
Because—because if he should die
While I was gone, and I—too late—
Should reach the heart that wanted me;

If I should disappoint the eyes
That hunted, hunted so, to see,
And could not bear to shut until
They “noticed” me—they noticed me;

If I should stab the patient faith
So sure I ’d come—so sure I ’d come,
It listening, listening, went to sleep
Telling my tardy name,—

My heart would wish it broke before,
Since breaking then, since breaking then,
Were useless as next morning’s sun,
Where midnight frosts had lain!

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