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"From blossoms comes / this brown paper bag of peaches / we bought from the boy / at the bend in the road where we turned toward / signs painted Peaches."
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"Nothing great happens as a result of loneliness. / Your character flaws remain in place. You still stop in / with friends and have wonderful hours among them, / but you must run as soon as you hear it calling."
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"There go the loves that wither, / The old loves with wearier wings; / And all dead years draw thither, / And all disastrous things; / Dead dreams of days forsaken, / Blind buds that snows have shaken, / Wild leaves that winds have taken, / Red strays of ruined springs."
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"Even the prick of the thistle,   queen of the weeds, revives   your secret belief in perpetual spring..."
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"And you as well must die, beloved dust, / And all your beauty stand you in no stead; / This flawless, vital hand, this perfect head, / This body of flame and steel, before the gust..."
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"and so the delicate, unfixed condition of love, the treacherous body / the unsettling state of creation and how we have damaged— / isn’t one a suitable lens through which to see another: / filter the body, filter the mind, filter the resilient land"
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"Aeons upon aeons have passed since the first grey dawn made us / visible to one another; and though we have seen the birth and the / fullness and the death of many worlds, we are still eager and young."
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"You’re not a creature in body. / You exist as the stars exist, / participating in their stillness, their immensity."
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"Though my soul may set in darkness, it will rise in perfect light; / I have loved the stars too truly to be fearful of the night."
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"You come as a wild man, as a homeless sidewalk orator, you come as a woman taking the bima, you come in prayer and song, you come in a fierce rant. Open the door for Eliyahu that she may come in."
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"Leave a door open long enough, / a cat will enter."
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"These are the hands of something ungreen."
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"It is terrible to be alone. / I don’t mean to live alone — / to be alone, where no one hears you."
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"Ah, world, what lessons you prepare for us, / even in the leafless winter, / even in the ashy city. / I am thinking now / of grief, and of getting past it."
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"And then I remember: there are children inside."
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"you ask me, lips pressed to vertebrae, about the ocean: does it weep for all those lost at sea; does it remember all it’s taken?"
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“And God told me / I had been almost right about the ponies, just / looking at it backwards. Things, God told me, / grow smaller.”
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@play-now-my-lord
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