Asobi Seksu- “Familiar Light” (Acoustic at Olympic Studios)
I stared at the ceiling to regain some feeling
The days mixed with let downs and come downs and put downs
There’s words and their feelings but none of them sit well
You say that you’re happy when no one believes you
So I just take my time
Bob Dylan- “Winterlude” from New Morning (1970)
Cid Corman, “The Research”
Forgive me
For hours I had tried to sleep
and failed;
restless and wild,
I could settle on nothing
and fell, in envy
of the things of darkness
following their sleepy course—
the root and branch, the bloodied beak—
even the screams from the cold leaves
were as red songs that rose and fell
in their accustomed place.
—Mary Oliver, closing lines to “Nature”
I’m not feeling strong yet, but I am taking
good care of myself. The weather is perfect.
I read and walk all day and then walk to the sea.
I expect to swim soon. For now I am content.
I am not sure what I hope for. I feel I am
doing my best. It reminds me of when I was
sixteen dreaming of Lorca, the gentle trees outside
and the creek. Perhaps poetry replaces something
in me that others receive more naturally.
Perhaps my happiness proves a weakness in my life.
Even my failures in poetry please me.
Time is very different here. It is very good
to be away from public ambition.
I sweep and wash, cook and shop.
Sometimes I go into town in the evening
and have pastry with custard. Sometimes I sit
at a table by the harbor and drink half a beer
—Linda Gregg, “The Letter”
I dreamed I called you on the telephone
to say: Be kinder to yourself
but you were sick and would not answer
The waste of my love goes on this way
trying to save you from yourself
I have always wondered about the left-over
energy, the way water goes rushing down a hill
long after the rains have stopped
or the fire you want to go to bed from
but cannot leave, burning-down but not burnt-down
the red coals more extreme, more curious
in their flashing and dying
than you wish they were
sitting long after midnight
—Adrienne Rich, “For the Dead”
