I read poems.
is the island of silence
What was that time ?
I lived alone
Below the sun
With seabird cries,
And other things
My name is sea.
It slaps the rocks
And when they aren’t convinced,
And soaks them
And smothers them with kisses.
I have lingered in the chambers of the sea
By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown
Till human voices wake me, and I drown.
Along the path
It unrests me to be among ugly women
Who pretend to have virtues
It’s spring but it leaves me
empty warm paws
Most of the time.
Then the days are not full enough
And the nights are not full enough
And life slips by like a field mouse
Not shaking the grass
And yet I awake. Ohh dear,
there is no first
There is no dream
This high noon I watch a drop of rain
Weaves its weary path and dies
I was frightened.
I read, much of the night, and wander around in the winter.
I try in the wind, I persuade blindness.
Because these wings are no longer wings to fly
But merely vans to beat the air
The air which is now thoroughly small and dry
Smaller and dryer than the will
Teach us to care and not to care Teach us to sit still.
Sit still and please
Hate the fools and compromise not
Paint this canvas full of words