I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,in secret, between the shadow and the soul. I love you as the plant that never blooms but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers; thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance, risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride; so I love you because I know no other way than this: where I does not exist, nor you, so close that your hand on my chest is my hand, so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.

 


hannah's web

              hannah's web

 

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This entry was posted on 4/30/2008 10:48 PM and is filed under Poems.


The sky opens its irresistible arms
saying, You will remember me
as deeper than sleep. The beginning,
for there is one, is always simple:
a prairie edged with trees that close
like a door behind you.
The path rises and falls like the body
of a woman, a man, then suddenly branches.
Stay calm, the sky counsels,
there is no need to choose,
you can follow them all at the same time
and here there is no such word as lost.
Soon you are so deep
reason disappears like a bird into thick foliage,
daily life stalls,
your son's face blurs
although you swore you would never forget him.
Is this the time to mention the man
nearly double your weight
who travels inside your body,
the exchange of breath,
or the tremors that mock the branch
where the flown bird lit?
If you care to look, you will see nothing,
but this you already know
as you know his eyes have deepened
to a certain shade of green you willingly enter
as if it were a place.
You feel there is no end to this:
you feel it as a violet sky
burning down the edges of the Earth,
you feel it pathless, rolling like prairie
past the shallow islands of the clouds,
out past every undiscovered planet,
you feel it as a failure of language,
as absence, deep space
that offers the eye no place to stop.
 
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