[poem] shared for posterity

[kaberett]

Found in a notebook just now; where seek & ye shall find began, offered for interest, though I'm not convinced by it (and certainly it wants a lot more work) -- but I thought it might be interesting to some of you to see how I recycle scraps, and how ideas happen. Originally scrawled on the 20th of July last year.

Memory has about it a certain trembling tautness, and
poetry resides in the interstice between tongue and heart,
muscle-strong. Stomach-strong.
Do you want to be my lover? Then--

love me more than skin-deep, tongue-deep, cunt-deep.
Words are how we give ideas legs. We cannot
be surprised, then, when they stumble, on
the uneven ground in the spaces between us
no matter how polished by years of loyal loving feet.

I am my flesh and bone; my body and my blood.
And I am also words.
Trace the lines on my face--arms--belly.
Trace the lines of my books no less fervently.
Memorise us both. (There will be no test, save the trials of time.)
I am no blank page. When I offer you a book--
places marked by bus tickets, receipts--
I offer you my heart.

Comments

[worlds_of_smoke]

oh, this is beautiful. -hugs-