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I carry your heart with me

I carry your heart with me (I carry it in
my heart) I am never without it (anywhere
I go you go,my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing, my darling)
I fear
no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) I want
no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true)
and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

Here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart

I carry your heart (I carry it in my heart)


I like my body when it is with your


I like my body when it is with your
body. It is so quite a new thing.
Muscles better and nerves more.
I like your body. I like what it does,
I like its hows. I like to feel the spine
of your body and its bones, and the trembling
-firm-smoothness and which I will
again and again and again
kiss, I like kissing this and that of you,
I like, slowly stroking the, shocking fuzz
of your electric fur, and what-is-it comes
over parting flesh . . . . And eyes big love-crumbs,

and possibly i like the thrill

of under me you quite so new

I discovered this poem while seeing part of Woody Allen’s film Hannah and her sisters. There is a scene in which the poem “Somewhere I have never travelled, gladly beyond” by E.E. Cummings is recited. I fell in love with the last line. Here it is:

 

somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond
any experience,your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look easily will unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skillfully,mysteriously)her first rose

or if your wish be to close me,i and
my life will shut very beautifully,suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;

nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility:whose texture
compels me with the colour of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing

(i do not know what is is about you that closes
and opens; only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands

 

If you wish to read more of his poems, you should buy a book, or you could also read them here.

¡Exprésense!

Libro del momento/ Book of the moment

INTERESANTE

Animanaturalis.org: Los Animales No Somos Comida
AnimaNaturalis.org: Los Animales No Somos Probetas
AnimaNaturalis.org: Los Animales No Somos Diversión
AnimaNaturalis.org: Los Animales No Somos Vestimenta

Flickr Photos

Macro Monday 2017-06-25 (5D_32A9977-89)

Broken for Macro Mondays 26th June 2017

Smashed - HMM

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