28 October 2009
22 October 2009
20 October 2009
my friend, this body is made of camphor and gopherwood. where it goes, we follow, even into the ark. as the light comes in sideways from the west over damp spring buds and winter trash, the body comes out hesitatingly, and we are shaken, we weep, how is it we feel no one has ever loved us? this protective lamplit left hand hovering over its own shadow on the page seems more loved than we are... and when we step into a room where we expect to find someone, we do not believe our eyes, we walk all the way over the floor and feel the bed...
19 October 2009
18 October 2009
15 October 2009
14 October 2009
it is safe—i have tried it—my own feet have tried it well.
allons! be not detain’d!
let the paper remain on the desk unwritten, and the book on the shelf unopen’d!
let the tools remain in the workshop! let the money remain unearn’d!
let the school stand! mind not the cry of the teacher!
let the preacher preach in his pulpit! let the lawyer plead in the court, and the judge expound the law.
mon enfant! i give you my hand!
i give you my love, more precious than money,
i give you myself, before preaching or law;
will you give me yourself? will you come travel with me?
shall we stick by each other as long as we live?