Love Poetry For Couple

for Seamus Heaney this morning the blade bites clean through soil turning up, on the way worms, spiders and a surfeit of others at work in the everlasting dark the news is it is your turn to spend some time with them, nothing is ended changing places perhaps, but ritual recognises impact on those left behind bespectacled vultures might pick over the life�s efforts, determine what�s worth

For New Year I wish you Janus, the god who looks forward and back, till his pupils dilate, intoxication of distance. On your calendar it�s his month. Here is the photo he hangs on your wall: salt caravans in Niger, from a paraglider, so high that camels seem strung as if notes on scribbled staves of song. On the horizon, a thin sprinkle like fire-blackened grain: another caravan. One way

A killing moon peeks through leaves of trumpet trees in full bloom for Lent, their barks crisscrossed by wild strokes of a machete when my son tried to help me weed our garden, overrun with dandelions, branches, leaves, a bounty of seed and thorns, side by side, under clusters of suns bursting through the branches. Shadows flicker across the wall upstairs, over Buzz Lightyear's grin, Mr. Potato

A wind has just blown through Malaetoa But it ain't no ordinary wind It is a wind that that has woken me up Calling me from Mesa, Arizona Sia, wake up Wake up sis How can you still sleep at this early hour? Didn't you hear me back in May When these motherfuckers came at me with patons... And fists In front of a grocery store Sirens Confusion And I'm just there minding my own Jumped by mens in

Marco Polo Maybe it�s the natural extension of immigration. Maybe it�s the awesome travel bugs, making my wife�s feet uncommonly itchy. I�m not surprised, at any rate, to hear the paediatrician�s nickname for our son. �Marco Polo� suits his - in utero - trajectory along the Silk Road, from Kublai Khan�s Forbidden City to the snow-covered stones of a caravanserai in central Turkey

At her party the boy runs best with the hard-boiled egg. During the obstacle course she meets him at the bird feeder on top of which raisins are scattered. �I�m a bird,� she nibbles and the boy really does bob and nod. Later he says, �we�re twins, and I can telepathically read the thoughts in your head,� at which point she makes a dent in his leg. It�s spring. Sometimes she hears an animal cry as

Empty girl I was, so far inside, grass didn't know me It was something unbending, only light seemed to touch But so long as I could smell the sea, so long as salt I had extrications, music, that fire, phase & beat And all around the world went off, banners & avenues, cruelties Now it's come one, come all, a kind of sassy hoedown The grass is going, it cracks & withers sadly, almost infinitely But