Friday, April 20, 2012

modified from the original

The art of losing:
filled with the intent
to be lost.

Accept the fluster,
the hour badly spent.
The art of losing,

losing farther, losing faster:
where it was you meant
will bring disaster.

I lost my mother's watch.
Three beloved houses went.
The art of

two cities,
two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but

(the joking voice, a gesture
I love)
too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!)

(One Art by Elizabeth Bishop)

Tuesday, April 10, 2012

The Tempest

I cried to dream again
I cried to dream
I cried to
I cried
dream again
to dream again
cried to dream again
I cried to dream again

Sunday, April 8, 2012

To be nostalgic for the place you are and the time that is—can we call that self-indulgent melancholy or is it something more?