more e.e.cummings

for prelude see most_people

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-smooth ness 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 big love-crumbs,

and possibly i like the thrill

of under me you quite so new

---------------------------------------

may i feel said he
(i'll squeal said she
just once said he)
it's fun said she

(may i touch said he
how much said she
a lot said he)
why not said she

(let's go said he
not too far said she
what's too far said he
where you are said she)

may i stay said he
(which way said she
like this said he
if you kiss said she

may i move said he
is it love said she)
if you're willing said he
(but you're killing said she

but it's life said he
but your wife said she
now said he)
ow said she

(tiptop said he
don't stop said she
oh no said he)
go slow said she

(cccome?said he
ummm said she)
you're divine!said he
(you are Mine said she)

---------------------------------------

(once like a spark)

if strangers meet
life begins-
not poor not rich
(only aware)
kind neither
nor cruel
(only complete)
i not not you
not possible;
only truthful
-truthfully,once
if strangers(who
deep our most are
selves)touch:
forever

(and so to dark)

---------------------------------------

since feeling is first
who pays any attention
to the syntax of things
will never wholly kiss you
wholly to be a fool
while Spring is in the world

my blood approves,
and kisses are a better fate
than wisdom
lady i swear by all flowers. Don't cry
the best gesture of my brain is less than
your eyelids' flutter which says

we are for each other: then
laugh, leaning back in my arms
for life's not a paragraph

and death i think is no parenthesis

---------------------------------------

nothing false and possible is love
(who's imagined,therefore is limitless)
love's to giving as to keeping's give;
as yes is to if,love is to yes

must's a schoolroom in the month of may:
life's the deathboard where all now turns when
(love's a universe beyond obey
or command,reality or un-)

proudly depths above why's first because
(faith's last doubt and humbly heights below)
kneeling,we-true lovers-pray that us
will ourselves continue to outgrow

all whose mosts if you have known and i've
only we our least begin to guess

better

"complement"

Dear Mama,

Thank you for all the things you have taught me: especially how to cook,
and iron clothes, and make the bed, and clean the
toilets, and scrub dirty pots with tamarind

I especially appreciate that I was allowed to break
things
without being made to feel like I committed some sin
as long as I cleaned it up

Today, I'm not afraid of getting my hands dirty
because of you

As ever,
Jaya

"Things to Do in the Belly of the Whale"

Measure the walls. Count the ribs. Notch the long days.
Look up for blue sky through the spout. Make small fires
with the broken hulls of fishing boats. Practice smoke signals.
Call old friends, and listen for echoes of distant voices.
Organize your calendar. Dream of the beach. Look each way
for the dim glow of light. Work on your reports. Review
each of your life's ten million choices. Endure moments
of self-loathing. Find the evidence of those before you.
Destroy it. Try to be very quiet, and listen for the sound
of gears and moving water. Listen for the sound of your heart.
Be thankful that you are here, swallowed with all hope,
where you can rest and wait. Be nostalgic. Think of all
the things you did and could have done. Remember
treading water in the center of the still night sea, your toes
pointing again and again down, down into the black depths.

~Dan Albergotti

little book of leadership

Chelsea Hotel #2

I remember you well in the Chelsea Hotel,
you were talking so brave and so sweet,
giving me head on the unmade bed,
while the limousines wait in the street.
Those were the reasons and that was New York,
we were running for the money and the flesh.
And that was called love for the workers in song
probably still is for those of them left.
Ah but you got away, didn't you babe,
you just turned your back on the crowd,
you got away, I never once heard you say,
I need you, I don't need you,
I need you, I don't need you
and all of that jiving around.

I remember you well in the Chelsea Hotel
you were famous, your heart was a legend.
You told me again you preferred handsome men
but for me you would make an exception.
And clenching your fist for the ones like us
who are oppressed by the figures of beauty,
you fixed yourself, you said, "Well never mind,
we are ugly but we have the music."

And then you got away, didn't you babe...

I don't mean to suggest that I loved you the best,
I can't keep track of each fallen robin.
I remember you well in the Chelsea Hotel,
that's all, I don't even think of you that often.

~Leonard Cohen

chai-time, with obscene laughter

for tanu

exit music (for a film)

Wake... from your sleep
The drying of your tears
Today.. we escape
We escape.

Pack and get dressed
Before your father hears us
Before.. all hell.. breaks loose.

Breathe... keep breathing
Don't lose.. your nerve.
Breathe... keep breathing
I can't do this.. alone.

Sing us a song
A song to keep us warm
There's such a chill
Such a chill.

You can laugh
A spineless laugh
We hope your rules and wisdom choke you
Now we are one
In everlasting peace

We hope that you choke.. that you choke
We hope that you choke.. that you choke
We hope that you choke.. that you choke

~Radiohead

crayon physics deluxe

(thanks nash)

wordle: a sweet application

"Farmhand"

You will see him light a cigarette
At the hail door careless, leaning his back
Against the wall, or telling some new joke
To a friend, or looking out into the secret night.

But always his eyes turn
To the dance floor and the girls drifting like flowers
Before the music that tears
Slowly in his mind an old wound open.

His red sunburnt face and hairy hands
Were not made for dancing or love-making
But rather the earth wave breaking
To the plough, crops slow-growing in his mind.

He has no girl to run her fingers through
His sandy hair, and giggle at his side
When Sunday couples walk. Instead
He has his awkward hopes, his envious dreams to yarn to.

But ah in harvest watch him
Forking stooks, effortless and strong -
Or listening like a lover to the song
Clear, without fault, of a new tractor engine.

~James K. Baxter

love-spat

in my imagination
love used to be very simple
rather textbook
everything i imagined about love was from poetry, the movies, the books
i never cared to listen to first hand experiences
and even if i did bother listening, i would only pick up and remember the parts that were in sync with my imagination

there is nothing practical about love
there should never be anything practical about love
not the kind of love i've imagined

growing up and some relationships later have thoroughly confused me
thoroughly

yes i've felt crazy passionate
and yes i care more than anything
and yes i've written poems
inspired
been inspired
let go
closed up
but i've always wanted more

always

maybe it's the kind of person i am. the always wanting more type.
it's like the whole god experience all over again
god, and wishes, and elves

(you know, i believed in everything till age 8 -- and then one by one -- every damn thing was shattered -- no faraway tree in the world of practicality)

so now i sit here, wondering
o fuck, jaya, is it god all over again?
was cora right before she met the rrrs of her life?
is this too a manifestation of society
for some sort of ego-stroking
for a feeling of security

i need to think more about this
i need to experience more about this
certainly not read more about this

(note to readers: i'm not talking about friend love, parent love, teacher love, boss love, etc. the topic of this post is only crazy sex crazy limits love.)