Someone, and no matter who, inhabits my head like it’s an empty house, he enters, he leaves, he bangs each door behind him, powerless I put up with this ruckus. Someone, and maybe it’s me, palms my most private thoughts, he crumples them, returns them to dust. Someone, and it’s much later now, slowly walks across the room and, not seeing me, stops to contemplate the havoc. Someone, and no matter where, collects the pieces of my shadow.
Someone, and no matter
S
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My goldfinch, I'll toss back my head—
let's look at the world, you and I:
a wintry day, prickly as stubble,
is it just as rough on your eye?
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dipped in paint from the beak down—
are you aware, my little goldfinch,
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a wintry day, prickly as stubble,
is it just as rough on your eye?
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are you aware, my little goldfinch,
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0
All in green went my love riding by E. E. Cummings
All in green went my love riding
on a great horse of gold
into the silver dawn.
four lean hounds crouched low and smiling
the merry deer ran before.
Fleeter be they than dappled dreams
the swift sweet deer
the red rare deer.
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God banish from your house
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That riots in the walls
Until the plaster falls;
Admonish from your door
The hypocrite and liar;
No shy, soft, tigrish fear
Permit upon your stair,
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Is this a dagger which I see before me,
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from Rubaiyat: "A Book of Verses underneath the Bough" by Omar Khayaam
A Book of Verses underneath the Bough,
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