[i carry your heart with me(i carry it in]

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 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)

E. E. Cummings

Dream Love

I did not deem it half so sweet
To feel thy gentle hand,
As in a dream thy soul to greet
Across wide leagues of land.

Untouched more near to draw to you
Where, amid radiant skies,
Glimmered thy plumes of iris hue,
My Bird of Paradise.

Let me dream only with my heart,
Love first, and after see:
Know thy diviner counterpart
Before I kneel to thee.

So in thy motions all expressed
Thy angel I may view:
I shall not on thy beauty rest,
But beauty’s self in you.

George William Russell
Image: Hengki24 @ DeviantArt

The Guide

When I look up at the night sky–
Well, there are trees, of course.  Mountains and clouds
And city lights
It’s not ideal.
But I can pretend I see, say, Vega, from the sidewalk just across the street–
And dozens of other nameless stars–
Nameless to me, I mean.
I have no doubt you could call them to you
If you wanted, you could call them to you like cats
Each name a warm and furry picture in your mind
(False color, if you were feeling frivolous.)
And they would answer, meekly, a purr or plaintive meow
As they twined their silken tails around your feet.

Continue reading The Guide

The Old Ceremony

By strangers’ coasts and waters, many days at sea,
I come here for the rites of your unworlding,
Bringing for you, the dead, these last gifts of the living
And my words—vain sounds for the man of dust.
Alas, my brother,
You have been taken from me. You have been taken from me,
By cold chance turned a shadow, and my pain.
Here are the foods of the old ceremony, appointed
Long ago for the starvelings under the earth:
Take them: your brother’s tears have made them wet: and take
Into eternity my hail and my farewell.

Catullus
Image: karatastamer @ DeviantArt