waits before trainsong

All right. Actually I get asked... Well... look, I think the question I get asked the most is... I mean, it happens a lot. Enough that I would remark on it.

my, my, my, my, my

We shall walk and talk
in gardens all misty wet with rain.
And I will never, never, never grow so old again

Oh sweet thing, sweet thing.
My, my, my, my, my sweet thing.
And I will raise my hand up
into the night cloud's sky.

I will never grow so old again.

And I'm younger now - (history my dear friend. years away you say my name, I'm settled down and I won't give up again.) richard buckner
I keep that song it keeps in mind. younger now. settled down. won't give up again.

and I like rain, I like walking in it and talking, I like night.

on that bleak track

She was crying and crying for a girl who died so many years before whom in any normal world she ought never to have known ~ ~

cannot find the passage quoted online only the bit made a lyric by the Cure. in 1981 - odd that I only now learn of the Cure song? it was the book itself I loved and I cried and cried myself at this.

another thing coming

If you think I'm not getting a milkshake,
you've got

punchpunchhug - first the rassle, then the love

could -

_

I aint much of a lover, it's true
I'm here then I'm gone and I'm for ever blue
but I'm sure it wasnt you

I wont tell you lies
I dont believe its wise
you got pretty eyes

if we help each other grow
while the light of day - shines down our way
well we can't go wrong

if I had no place to fall
and I needed to-

could I count on you -

if I

had your love forever, - - sail into the light of day

heard her sing in tongues of silver
I heard her cry on a summer storm
I loved her, but she did not know it
so I don't think about her anymore
Now she's gone, and I can't believe it
so I don't think about her anymore

If I had a buckskin stallion I'd tame him down and ride away.
and if I had a boat I'd go out on the ocean and if I had a pony I'd ride him on my boat and we could all together go out on the ocean say me up on my pony on my boat
If I had a flyin' schooner I'd sail into the light of day
If I had your love foreversail into the light of day

Pretty songs and pretty places
places that I've never seen
pretty songs and pretty faces
tell me what their laughter means

Townes Van Zandt -Buckskin Stallion Blues ...

I believe every thing you're saying

_
Here's to you old skinny Dennis - only one I think I will miss
I can hear that old bass singing Got to give it all we can now

I believe every thing you're saying

just keep on, keep on playing.

unremembered

today going under the shower was like swimming and wooden steps were like of a beach house.

I've heard that story

_
You always were a problem
for me Joey
When mom brought you home from the hospital
I tried to strangle you in your crib

I guess all kids try to do
that


*ViggoMortenson (Joey) with brother, in movie AHistoryofViolence.

seems like a long time ago

had it bad for something

, Good for Nothing~,

sonny's

_
yearbook from high school is down from the shelf - and he idly thumbs through the pages
_
Sunny came home to her favorite roomSunny sat down in the kitchenShe opened a book and a box of toolsSunny came home with a mission
Sunny came home with a list of namesShe didn't believe in transcendenceIt's time for a few small repairs she said Sunny came home with a vengeance

son,

__
I've made my life - from reading people's faces - and knowin what their cards were - by the way they held their hand. - so if you don't mind my sayin - I can see you're out of Aces
__
can you play me a melody - I'm not really sure how it goes. - but it's sad and sweet - and I knew it complete - when I wore a younger man's clothes

you to me - her to him

-
I considered what was between them, what they felt, what they blocked. There's always something between people.
-

Hamann Page 177

I see

photos everywhere.

sorry love --- photos were always about taking.

kiki

ariadne kieriaki
little blond girl, wearing koublaiki~ beads round her neck, with her lovely lively quick-speaking greek darkhaired mother, met yesterday morning outside of shoe repair store of greek 'papou' who introduced us "kai aftee ena ellina." little one called him dad-a, mother says she calls all men that and all women mom-a. asked what I was, she said "... Bab-ee."
yes i do have a lot of baby in me, glad you could see that.
mother: see they have Insight.

..."kai emas herake poli."

the very least

"it's the least I can do"

(just in mind - not quoting anyone)

polaroid 3

what it about polaroids
I like so well

_

_

_

polaroid3 - uploaded on May 14, 2006 by StellaTheDriver

polaroid (Pool)

open your eyes

this is what I look like when I believe in you.

girl in red shirt

girl in red shirt1 Originally uploaded by lexly87.

Faunia

I'm not going to give her up, Nathan. I've started to call her Voluptas.

on Page 37, Roth, The Human Stain

lucky

Walking around with your little shoes dangling.
I am the one who lives with the ocean.

bo deans

no no no don't pass me over ...
see I can see good things for you and I

brrrnenenr nrnrnrnr nrnr brrrnenenr nrnrnrnr nrnr

around table

_________

Back in Buffalo for Liz's wedding

but dark clothes,reddish tablecloth&wallpaper, mirror, table. what do I so like ? distinct expressions at one antoher? frfarsidetable looking up toward man in motion twd; &woman standing looking dwntoward woman thissidetable foreground

from rwwl flickrblog

transparency oh

risks and rewards.
all the needs and all the gifts.

Geneviève révassant

-



http://www.flickr.com/photos/rouleau/41603182/ via rwwl flickrblog
Geneviève, révassant à immoler des licornes...
Geneviève (Set)

ofachild

3 favorites lg is my total favorite she is my family these are some funny nice cats I don't know & smile at photos of:

peekpeek seussed and with greenyellowred

hey look - it's choco!

sophie & jack

cheer

_
I know a guy who's tough but sweet
He's so fine, he can't be beat
He's got everything that I desire
Sets the summer sun on fire - I want candy, I want candy http://www.80smusiclyrics.com/artists/bowwowwow.htm

************************************

oh mickey what a pity you don't understand
You take me by the heart when you take me by the hand
Oh Mickey you're so pretty, can't you understand
It's guys like you Mickey - Oh what you do Mickey, do Mickey
Don't break my heart, Mickey http://www.80smusiclyrics.com/artists/tonibasil.htm

against

you have to be against something. I'm against the burning of witches. whenever they burn a witch, I get all hot under the collar.
--dear Abe, in Tender is the Night

mary

Jesus said mother I couldn't stay another
day longer -
flies right by and leaves
a kiss upon her face
while the angels sing his praises in a blaze of
glory
Mary stays behind, starts cleaning up the place.

patty griffin

after no

"After the final no," Wallace Stevens wrote, "there comes a yes / And on that yes the future world depends."
rw: [nice close] courant.com/news/local/northeast
(The Well Dressed Man With A Beard - A poem by Wallace Stevens)

After the final no there comes a yes
And on that yes the future world depends.
No was the night. Yes is this present sun.
If the rejected things, the things denied .. One thing remaining, infallible, would be Enough. .. Green in the body, out of a petty phrase, Out of a thing believed, a thing affirmed:
.. It can never be satisfied, the mind, never.

Amy - pure prairie league

I can see why you think you belong to me ...
I never tried to make you think or let you see one thing for yourself but now your off with someone else and I'm alone You see I thought that I might keep you for my own
(guess I was wrong)
Amy what you wanna do? I think I could stay with you For a while, maybe longer if I do
Don't you think the time is right for us to find all the things we thought weren't proper could be right in time And can you see which way we should turn together or alone I can never see what is right or what is wrong (will it take too long to see)
Now it's come to what you want you've had your way and all the things you thought before just faded into grey And can you see that I don't know if it's you or if it's me If it's one of us I'm sure we both will see Won't you look at me and tell me
Amy what you wanna do? I think I could stay with you For a while, maybe longer if I do
Fallin' in and out of love with you Fallin' in and out of love with you Don't know what I'm gonna do, I'd keep Fallin' in and out of love
With you

Anna begins

My friend assures me, "It's all or nothing." I am not worried I am not overly concerned My friend implores me, "For one time only, Make an exception." I am not worried Wrap her up in a package of lies Send her off to a coconut island I am not worried I am not overly concerned with the status of my emotions "Oh," she says, "you're changing." But we're always changing
It does not bother me to say this isn't love Because if you don't want to talk about it then it isn't love And I guess I'm going to have to live with that But I'm sure there's something in a shade of grey Or something in between And I can always change my name If that's what you mean
My friend assures me, "It's all or nothing." But I am not really worried I am not overly concerned You try to tell yourself the things you try to tell yourself To make yourself forget I am not worried "If it's love," she said, "then we're going to have to think about the consequences." She can't stop shaking I can't stop touching her and...
This time when kindness falls like rain It washes her away and Anna begins to change her mind "These seconds when I'm shaking leave me shuddering for days," she says And I'm not ready for this sort of thing
But I'm not going to break And I'm not going to worry about it anymore I'm not going to bend and I'm not going to break And I'm not going to worry about it anymore No no no no no, It seems like I should say, "As long as this is love..." But it's not all that easy so maybe I should Snap her up in a butterfly net Pin her down on a photograph album I am not worried I've done this sort of thing before But then I start to think about the consequences Because I don't get no sleep in a quiet room and...
This time when kindness falls like rain It washes me away and Anna begins to change my mind And everytime she sneezes I believe it's love and Oh Lord, I'm not ready for this sort of thing She's talking in her sleep It's keeping me awake and Anna begins to toss and turn And every word is nonsense but I understand and Oh Lord, I'm not ready for this sort of thing Her kindness bangs a gong It's moving me along and Anna begins to fade away It's chasing me away She disappears and Oh Lord, I'm not ready for this sort of thing

voice

not omitting, one hopes,
words in rhythmic patterns
capturing the character's voice


Evening quickie: Voice on the Tree of Life (RWx-shortish)

while

as long as

and in short

I was afraid.

culture given

madonna and cyndi lauper

michael jackson and boy george

playing with whitney in my backyard

if I'd stayed put, would the world have continued to be given to me?

last nite on vh1, 'Behind the Music'-1984. --"I remember when the question was, were you a madonna girl or a cyndi lauper girl?"--
for me it was 1985 emblazoned in very bright pink on a pink sleeveless t-shirt that I bought large so it would fit into adulthood...
and what else? Kavafy no not Cavafy his name K__? was simply bad, and there was a rhyming song about how. sung with cate hartley, this scene set
in my basement: a matress and a trapeze. an atari, shooting spaceships.
a boom box, taping parts of Kasey Kasum's countdown: Sha-ka-kan. and: oh Rock me Amadeus.
this must be a shared culture, something that mates me with 'my generation' - but is it still mine?

I was aware of Bruce Springsteen, but really for me he came later, with Nebraska, with mc.
seeing him last nite, I like him very much. I now not then.

under the sun

nothing new.

rainstorm: life comes back.
just like that.

lie down together

my heart is pumping blood. my lungs are breathing. my stomach is digesting food.
let me lay my arm across your torso
where such things
are happening in you
as you
let me live with you
your limbs and mine.

what destiny, love

little idyll
were there lambsof courseno capital for milesthe hedgerows hardlyhedged as we our sheep tended
romance
how could it not bethe fabulous conjunctionand & and & not &what destiny, lovewhat a hard time we had of itbut golden days fall outof silken purses, private

Jacket 13 - Maureen McLane - Two poems (first - Minor Literature)
This is Jacket 13 - April 2001 # 13 Contents Homepage

the back of your hand

like you know it, you know me too.

every day of the week

and twice on Sunday, babe.

I feel and think much as

Still and all, why bother? Here's my answer. Many people need desperately to receive this message: I feel and think much as you do, care about many of the things you care about, although most people do not care about them. You are not alone. -Kurt Vonnegut stellamarrs postcard at semcoop

there'd be days

oh my mama told me
there'd be days like this

ending Boston Legal tonite..

tonight's lines

____________

They Don't Love You Like We Do

and, Will the last one to leave please turn out the lights?

lord, I'm coming home

I've been fighting the devil too long. Lord, I'm coming home.
On the sidewalks of Savannah There's an old man ragged and blind He don't beg, an' he don't steal And he don't fool with wine With an old guitar in his wrinkled hands A thousand songs in his mind You can't keep your heart from loving The song man when you hear him cry...
Song Man, one song for a dime
I got songs that'll make ya happy
And songs that'll make ya cry
I got a special poor man's blues
Two for the price of one
It won't cost you a thing to hear me
sing my favorite gospel song....
'Lord, I'm comin' home, Lord I'm comin' home
I've been a fightin'the devil too long
Lord I'm comin' home'

dulcimer

dulcimer
gossamer
thread
web
child
blue
metal

always, thomas stearns

For Thine is the Kingdom
Between the conceptionAnd the creationBetween the emotionAnd the responseFalls the Shadow
Life is very long
Between the desireAnd the spasmBetween the potencyAnd the existenceBetween the essenceAnd thedescentFalls the Shadow
For Thine is the Kingdom
For Thine isLife isFor Thine is the

This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
Not with a bang but a whimper.

like you were walking into

You’re So Vain (carly simon)
You walked into the party like you were walking onto a yachtYour hat strategically dipped below one eyeYour scarf it was apricotYou had one eye on the mirror as you watched yourself gavotteAnd all the girls dreamed that they’d be your partnerThey’d be your partner, and...
You’re so vain, you probably think this song is about youYou’re so vain, I’ll bet you think this song is about youDon’t you? don’t you?
You had me several years ago when I was still quite naiveWell you said that we made such a pretty pairAnd that you would never leaveBut you gave away the things you loved and one of them was meI had some dreams, they were clouds in my coffeeClouds in my coffee, and...
You’re so vain, you probably think this song is about youYou’re so vain, I’ll bet you think this song is about youDon’t you? don’t you?
Well I hear you went up to saratoga and your horse naturally wonThen you flew your lear jet up to nova scotiaTo see the total eclipse of the sunWell you’re where you should be all the timeAnd when you’re not you’re withSome underworld spy or the wife of a close friendWife of a close friend, and...


and from where? 'you're-so-far-gone' light dd d d
I've had a very short bit of some other song in my mind...especially when waking up - I wish I cld place it
the bit has the lyrics "you're so far gone" female voice, light steppy notes
...it's like a song that I know in another world, where I go when I sleep and here I can't find it

conference of birds

Thirty birds set out on a perilous journey to reach the Mighty Simurgh, whose name means thirty birds.

The Conference of Birds is the most widely known and influential work of Farid Ud-Din Attar, a twelfth-century Persian poet and mystic of the school of Islamic mysticism known as Sufism. When all the birds of the world convene and determine that they lack a king, one bird steps forward and offers to lead them to a great and mighty monarch. Initially excited, each bird falters in turn, whereupon the leader admonishes them with well-targeted parables. These pithy tales are the delight of this 4,500-line poem, translated deftly into rhymed couplets: What is your excuse for not seeking God? Your life is fine already?...
- Attar is indeed good literature, and Mr. Davis' translation is simple and balanced, with a feeling of intimacy that mirrors Attar's style. It is never overworked or sentimental - if you're expecting Fitzgerald's Khayyam you'll be disappointed. good. but oh: different Fitzgerald - E. not Robert. still, good: simple, balanced, intimate, not overworked sentimental.

spicer

the real muse says talk all you want, baby, but then let's go to bed.

look up to

she's holding hands with someone
twice her height

again

samuel

sugar water

at the beach with the smiths. whitney and I making ice tea at a time when I didn't know that the water must be hot...
(and playing cards at nite -- conferencing low behind the counter -- whitney's face big in mine: let's bluff)

shadow love

"I love three things. I love a dream of love I once had, I love you, and I love this patch of earth."
"And which do you love best?"
"The dream."
Knut Hamsun, Pan.

epigram to The Wild Girl: The Notebooks of Ned Giles, 1932 - Apr06 by Jim Fergus (among galleys ~)

slow movement

solo dance by a male dancer... butoh performance of over an hour: He began reclining and later stood but the sequence of movements altogether was so slow you almost never perceived him as moving at all. -nada gordon Oct23 in Swoon

"Slow-ow-ow-ow Love. So much better when we take it easy."
-omiewise, lovely. linking on metachat to 639-Year Concert Lets Loose 2nd Chord

dance

when a dancer comes on stage, he is not only what the choreographer has written. he has with him all the decisions he has made in life. each time, he has chosen, and in what he is onstage you see the result of those choices. exceptional dancers know who they are and they show this to you, willingly. ~Mikhail Baryshnikov, quoted in Nyer aricle re solo-dancer-and-choreographers Sally Silvers and Teresa De Keersmaeker.

come to

you come to me with kisses. and you come to me with -

you come home late and you come home early
you come home big when you're feeling small
you come home straight and you come home curly
sometimes you don't come home at all.
so what in the world's come over you
and what in heaven's name have you done
you've broken the speed of the sound of loneliness
you're out there running just to be on the run. -nanci griffith (john prine)

it is a world but there's another.
I awoke far on. -edwin muir, labyrinth.

bird song

and dread.
a memory?

as little green

the heater is warming.
or it is not.
maro is here.
or is not.

sunday

...the great catastrophe
the day is like wide water, without sound (Wallace Stevens).

I attend to my work and I love it.
but today the languor of composition disheartens.
The day has affected me - its face is deepening dark (Cavafy).

there's something in a Sunday
makes a body feel alone- (Kris Kristofferson - Johnny Cash).

sunday is sposed to be the day - for kickin off your shoes
so how come that's the day-- I always get the blues.
and I can't seem to make it through Sunday-- (Lucinda Williams).

I like cream in my coffee. I like to sleep late on Sunday.
and nobody knows me - like my baby.
I like cream in my coffee, and I hate to be alone on Sunday-
and nobody knows me like my baby (Lyle Lovett).

source

you're reading a book and you make some notes in the margin -- you say things similar, more or less of your own. this goes on for days.
one day, you open the book to a new page and there in the book's text are sentences that you have written. before, already. or not? maybe, it must be, you had already read this page and then you wrote it down. no. the footnote in the book's text credits you.
these are the sentences you wrote in the margins. flip back and see.

*this goes on for days - echoing menagerie of course

beginnings

these things never happened and are always.

calasso, echo after echo. dlww 1/15.

for all that

_
It is easy to see the beginnings of things, and harder to see the ends.
Didion: Goodbye to-


We remember our own lives, Schopenhauer wrote somewhere, a little better than we do a novel we once read.

Platform by MICHEL HOUELLEBECQ on Page 130

On se souvient de sa propre vie, écrit Schopenhauer, un peu plus que d'un roman qu'on aurait lu par le passé. Oui, c'est cela : un peu plus seulement.
Yes, there it is: a little more only.
not That's about right: a little, no more.

road

rules are, there ain't no rules.
it's to the second bridge and back and whoever makes it first, wins.

though as for that the passing there
had worn them really about the same.

Baruchito

___________

oh no. bye baby.
.

soundtrack

_
if two people meet
as on a sunny street
bodies upon feet

what's the background beat?

again

play it one more time Samuel.
I'm okay with it if you don't mind.

let it ride

Oh lord, I wasn't ready to go
I'm never ready to go
Let it ride Let it ride easy down the road

Ryan Adams, singing tonite on Austin City Limits (remember: 8pm Friday PBS 20) and get Cold Roses - only $12 double disc from Lost Highways last spring.

az rvw: Uncle Tupelo, Son Volt, Wilco, Wiskeytown, Bright Eyes, and Ryan Adams. I have to hand it to these wonderful artists who choose to undertake the very difficult task of adding to the Folk/Country landscape of the American sound. It's hard to create a song that sounds fresh yet familiar at the same time. this one is familiar, as I love.

alice

Pay no attention to Alice, she's drunk all the time...
-lyrics by Tom T Hall

favor

so I have a favorite-
singer tvz
poet tse
television character lg
favorite lg-my littlegreen.
and, I suppose, songfastcar citychicago.

own critic

a poetry of little words. this. that. my. you.

what is getting you so down

dad thinking, not dissuaded, that that must have been a loss. the loss. but it feels, and maybe this does not mean it was not, but it feels, it does, like what I look for, like when I feel better. 'the moment of connection' ( is it an "intervention" when you speak?) -- the girl lying with the goose, menagerie, all of creation offended -all of creation responding- in this distress. the keening of the moon, sometimes, rising. it means this: this miracle among the animals.

mc with his 'what would it mean to...?' to have your formative moment, identification, your formation, be this. it means that I am saying, to Jaime, that I want my government to have in mind the moment when we crawl from the rubble, look around, come together, say: what now.

loss. but when this is that which, if lost, would leave me inconsolable. alone, not understanding that anyone is there or will return, then shall we not call that the loss and find another word for this.

she would be waiting

She had an air of seeming to wait, as if for a man to get through with something more important than herself, a battle or an operation, during which he must not be hurried or interfered with. When the man had finished she would be waiting, without fret or impatience, somewhere on a highstool, turning the pages of a newspaper.

Mrs. Speers was fresh in appearance but she was tired; death beds make people tired indeed and she had watched beside a couple.

FSF Tender is Night

forge

what's that word, I forget sometimes

repose

_____

that's what I wanted to tell you.

all the things you could say, you're saying this.
"with all the fish in the sea?" "not like her."

these are what I am thinking when I am at the window. when I wake up. when I brush my teeth.
my mind returning home, says i'm so sorry.

"I want to know things."

why didn't you tell me sooner?

I just wanted to hear you say it.

-so you're not angry? - I'm not done yet -shhh... -just let me get my mind around this. -what is that--that metaphor? -don't do this. -I'm sorry.

I miss you. I'm looking out the window, this is the voice in my head.
To me these are the only real things in the world.

inconsolable 2

all the silver in the kitchen would someday be Carol's and if my mother wanted it more than everything, if she picked the first star in the sky every night of her life and wished, she still could not have it, ever.
p.128 my copy Anywhere but Here

that is not what I meant, at all.
(she still could not have it, ever.)

and if I went to the gym everyday, and I ran and I swam, and I ate no sweets, I still would not have another body. I'd still have this body, this deformity.

Frog Hospital on Page 32: ... for the love that as children they had desired so, sought so, distorted themselves so to get but never got. I once rode eighty blocks with a cabbie who kept saying over and over, "And he never hugged me, and he never kissed me," until by Eighth Street he was weeping and I had to get out. It was unbearable.
on Page 130: ...It is unacceptable, all the stunned and anzious missing a person is asked to endure in life. It is not to be endured, not really.

inconsolable 1

...a little boy of two sobbing his heart out, leaning with his face against a screen door of his house. or behind a curtain or a tree; or lying face down on the floor. in our nursery school years ago, a little boy hid in the empty fireplace, unreachable, broken-hearted, his first day away from his mother--two years old, not understanding that she would return.

inconsolable

the immense, illiterate, consoling angels.
the giraffe with his head cocked petulantly, weeping, hold me.
becominginvolved a woman lies down with a goose. they love each other. bliss, terribly private. quietly deathly quiet. away.
privateness - an oval pond in the park and they sit down by it, sorry for the ducks but not for themselves.
privilegeofbeing - somewhere a man and a woman are making love up above the angels my love this morning as much as you...
All of creation in offended by this distress. It is like the keening sound the moon makes sometimes, rising.
menagerie - although it would mean this, this miracle among the souls of animals. And you.

amanda

amanda, light up my life.
fate should have made you a gentleman's wife.

becoming involved

In Golden Gate Parka woman lies down with a goose.They stretch on their sides,they love each other.Rapt goose arches his spinethe way feathers can shuffle.People stop to stare.Bliss is terribly private.

When the woman turns away,the goose starts his odd mouthhonking and snapping at the air.He slowly crosses the moss trail,turns one blue eye back at his woman.Then quietly, deathly quiet,he puts one foot inand paddles away.

oh-

Copyright © 2006 Elizabeth Rees All rights reserved
rw: turns one blue eye back at his woman (vDaily-short)

privateness

Privatenessby Laura Riding
They have a small bedroom. The bed is small, but they are not fat and they love each other. She sleeps with her knees neatly inside his knees and when they get up they do not get in each other's way. She says, "Put on the shirt with the blue patterns like little spotted plates," and he says, "Put on the white skirt that you wear the purple jacket with." They have no prejudices against colours but like what they have.
Their other room is not larger, but it is cleverly arranged, with a table for this and a table for that. He makes the sandwiches at one table while at another she writes a letter to a friend who needs money. She writes promptly to say they have no money a nd sends their love. It is not true that they have no money; but they are both out of work and must be careful with the little money they have. They are thinking of renting an office and selling advice on all subjects, for they are very intelligent people . The idea seems like a joke, and they talk about it jokingly; but they mean it.
They go to a large park. It costs little to get there and they know the very tree they want to sit under. It is more like a business trip than a holiday. They eat their lunch in a methodical way and afterwards look through the grass around them as a mothe r looks through her child's hair to see if it is clean. Then they think about their affairs and change their minds many times.
They walk about on the grass and feel sensible, but when they walk on paved paths they feel they are wasting their time. Finally they decide to commit suicide. They talk about it in natural tones because they may really do it--and they may not. There is a n oval pond in the park with solemn brown ducks paddling in it, and they sit down by it, sorry for the ducks paddling in it, and they sit down by it, sorry for the ducks but not for themselves.
They go out of the park at a different entrance from the one they came in by. There are strange restaurants all around they would never think of eating in. It makes them feel lonely, so they speed home in a taxi, though they can ill afford this. At home t here is the electric light, which makes them look at each other peculiarly. It is worth going out to be able to come home and look at each other in such a way--not a loving way or a tragic way, but as if to say, "It doesn't interest us what our story is-- that is for other people."

reminded by Becoming Involved - looked for Laura Riding Jackson park.
Progress of Stories, by Laura Riding
They go out of the park at a different entrance from the one they came in by

mc

privilegeofbeing

Becoming Involved reminds me of everything...~ somewhere a man and a woman are making love up above the angels my love this morning as much as you-="you could not" angels hass:
Many are making love. Up above, the angelsin the unshaken ether and crystal of human longingare braiding one another's hair, which is strawberry blondand the texture of cold rivers. They glancedown from time to time at the awkward ecstasy--it must look to them like featherless birdssplashing in the spring puddle of a bed--and then one woman, she is about to come,peels back the man's shut eyelids and says,look at me, and he does. Or is it the mantugging the curtain rope in that dark theater?Anyway, they do, they look at each other;two beings with evolved eyes, rapacious,startled, connected at the belly in an unbelievably sweetlubricious glue, stare at each other,and the angels are desolate. They hate it. They shudder patheticallylike lithographs of Victorian beggarswith perfect features and alabaster skin hawking ragsin the lewd alleys of the novel.All of creation in offended by this distress.It is like the keening sound the moon makes sometimes,rising. menagerie menagerie -although it would mean this, this - amid the -. The lovers especially cannot bear it,it fills them with unspeakable sadness, so thatthey close their eyes again and hold each other, eachfeeling the mortal singularity of the bodythey have enchanted out of death for an hour or so,and one day, running at sunset, the woman says to the man,I woke up feeling so sad this morning because I realizedthat you could not, as much as I love you,dear heart, cure my loneliness,wherewith she touched his cheek to reassure himthat she did not mean to hurt him with this truth.And the man is not hurt exactly,he understands that life has limits, that peopledie young, fail at love,fail of their ambitions. He runs beside her, he thinksof the sadness they have gasped and crooned their way out ofcoming, clutching each other with old, inventedforms of grace and clumsy gratitude, readyto be alone again, or dissatisfied, or merelycompanionable like the couples on the summer beachreading magazine articles about intimacy between the sexesto themselves, and to each other,and to the immense, illiterate, consoling angels.-Robert Hass

also rees - Rain

The cows' colors hurt my eyes—their white and black claims lie. yes. The rain, alone, tells the truth-yes-, the bearing down neutral cryof its gray, clear songsinging just how hard it is to seethrough the falling sky, the threatsand hopes no color at all butinsistent see-through clarity, down,down, so dark despite the early hour-

also by Elizabeth Rees in Verse Daily:
July 4, 2004: "Morning Drive to Ijamsville" "Against overturned cups of rain..."

what is the question?

gertrude stein, dying.
or alice to gertrude, at her deathbed.

she may not have meant what I mean, which is

what is the question?
my love, tell me. tell me.

fantastical

for all our

harmless

you must know, I think, that I'm in love with you.

and Abe at the station seeing off Nicole in Tender is the Night - belly-sick in love with her for years. Page 70 - ... yet up to this morning Nicole had liked Abe better than anyone except Dick—and he had been heavy, belly-frightened, with love for her for years. ...

roma

The anagram on 'Rome', 'Love' & 'Maro', the latter being the cognomen of Virgil, has long intrigued me, interlacing themes of close concern ...