guitar girl strumming
music to soothe her own soul
joyous in her world
a smile on her lips so bright
love in her fingers for life
Month: September 2013
The Way by Robert Creeley
My love’s manners in bed
are not to be discussed by me,
as mine by her
I would not credit comment upon gracefully.
Yet I ride by the margin of that lake in
the wood, the castle,
and the excitement of strongholds;
and have a small boy’s notion of doing good.
Oh well, I will say here,
knowing each man,
let you find a good wife too,
and love her as hard as you can.
Later (6) by Robert Creeley
If you saw
dog pass, in car–
looking out, possibly
indifferently, at you–
would you–could you–
shout, “Hey, Spot!
It’s me!” After all
these years,
no dog’s coming home
again. Its skin’s
moldered
through rain, dirt,
to dust, hair alone
survives, matted tangle.
Your own, changed,
your hair, greyed,
your voice not the one
used to call him home.
“Hey Spot!” The world’s
greatest dog’s got
lost in the world,
got lost long ago.
a tanka: vanishing breed
ancient dinosaur
too sensitive for this world
with regret in heart
goes lumbering off to lie
with his own vanishing breed
Valentine by Robert Creeley
Had you a dress
would cover you all
in beautiful echoes
of all the flowers I know,
could you come back again,
bones and all,
just to talk
in whatever sound,
like letters spelling words,
this one says, Mother,
I love you—
that one, my son.
Dogs by Robert Creeley
I’ve trained them
to come,
to go away again,
to sit, to stand,
to wait
on command,
or I’d like to
be the master who
tells them all
they can’t do.
Passing By Waterwheel Bay by Yang Wan-li
Reading in my palanquin, I fall asleep and dream–
dream of a fishing boat, lapped by waves.
When I awake, the wind is riffling the pages of my book,
and I can’t even find the right chapter.
trans. Jonathan Chaves
