Saturday, December 07, 2002

Got this Poem on my budday for an unknown reason. I like unknown reasons.

Houses and rooms are full of perfumes, the shelves are
crowded with perfumes,
I breathe the fragrance myself, and know it and like it,
The distillation would intoxicate me also, but I shall not let it.

The atmosphere is not a perfume, it has no taste of
the distillation, it is odorless,
It is for my mouth forever, I am in love with it,
I will go to the bank by the wood and become
undisguised and naked,
I am mad for it to be in contact with me.

The smoke of my own breath,
Echoes, ripples, and buzz'd whispers, love-root,
silk-thread, crotch and vine,
My respiration and inspiration, the beating of my
heart, the passing of blood and air through my lungs,
The sniff of green leaves and dry leaves, and of the
shore and dark-color'd sea-rocks, and of hay in the barn,
The sound of the belch'd words of my voice, words
loos'd to the eddies of the wind,
A few light kisses, a few embraces, a reaching around
of arms,
The play of shine and shade on the trees as the supple
boughs wag,
The delight alone or in the rush of the streets, or
along the fields and hill-sides,
The feeling of health, the full-noon trill, the song
of me rising from bed and meeting the sun.

Have you reckon'd a thousand acres much? Have you
reckon'd the earth much?
Have you practiced so long to learn to read?
Have you felt so proud to get at the meaning of poems?

Stop this day and night with me and you shall possess
the origin of all poems,
You shall possess the good of the earth and sun,
(there are millions of suns left,)
You shall no longer take things at second or third
hand, nor look through the eyes of the dead, nor feed
on the spectres in books,
You shall not look through my eyes either, nor take
things from me,
You shall listen to all sides and filter them from yourself.


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