Saturday, March 1, 2008

a few lines from "By Rail through Earthly Paradise, Perhaps Bedfordshire" by Denise Levertov

Common day
precious to me.
There's nothing else
to grasp.
The train moves me past it too fast, not much,
just a little, I don't want to stay for ever...
I'm not hungry,
not lonely. It seems
at times I want nothing,
no human giving and taking.
Nothing I see fails to give me pleasure,
no thirst for righteousness
dries my throat, I am silent
and happy, and troubled only
by my own happiness. Looking
and naming. I wish the train now
would halt for me...
I could become
a carved stone
set in the gates of the earthly paradise...

a few lines from "The Sun" by Mary Oliver

... do you think there is anywhere,
in any language,
a word billowing enough
for the pleasure
that fills you,
as the sun
reaches out,

as it warms you
as you stand there,
empty-handed---
or have you too
turned from this world

or have you too
gone crazy for power,
for things?