An Old Cracked Tune (Stanley Kunitz)

(Really want that last couplet tattooed on my body somewhere. I first encountered this poem on the N train. Love at first read. That last stanza is a mantra I often repeat to myself. I wish I could say that much in that short of a line. For the joy of surviving... )

My name is Solomon Levi,
the desert is my home,
my mother's breast was thorny,
and father I had none.

The sands whispered, Be separate,
the stones taught me, Be hard.
I dance, for the joy of surviving,
on the edge of the road.

On Why Sex is Good (and how not to complicate it) *March 2009*

(So this should be a lot longer, but this is a first draft and probably a good quick intro to my thoughts on the subject. Which are silly thoughts that lead to a lot of reckless decisions, but none-the-less, I think they are mostly solid. All I do is read/think/talk about sex, so feel free to engage me in this conversation over coffee...)

First of all, there's the obvious conclusion: the orgasms. Orgasms are totally positive. They release endorphins, so the more you have the better you feel. Its a release of energy, so it can de-stress you and clear your mind. While getting there you're burning calories. Also, if you're having sex you're not doing other less fun/productive things like working or watching TV or committing crimes. Plus, making sure people have orgasms means you care. So you and your partner are engaging in an act that is not entirely selfish. Its considerate. That's the best part about sex. It fosters closeness with another human being. Not necessarily love and fidelity, but affection and intimacy. And, literally, closeness. If you choose, it can also be a way to physically express love.

So why does it get so complicated? The first reason is that people make it completely emotional. Denying your physical needs will create a cycle of guilt. Sex is not bad and should not be punished. Then people use it as a commodity. They withhold it to win a fight, or give it too freely in hopes of receiving love in return. Sex is not a bartering tool. Using it to hurt someone is wrong, and trying to fix other aspects of a relationship with it is futile. The best way to screw up sex is to engage in it without trust. I don't mean epic 'I'll love you forever' trust, the the trust that means a person will treat you and your naked body with gentle affection and decency (or with whatever kind of behavior is agreed upon. Spank away, if that's what you're into.) If you aren't sure that will occur, then a sex act can quickly turn into an emotional debacle. Plus, it'll be harder to have an orgasm.

XXV- Emily Dickinson

(IDK why I'm not into posting originals lately. But I'm not. So here's an Emily, enthusiastic and imaginative and kinda speaking my heart right now...)

Wild nights! Wild nights!
Were I with thee,
Wild nights should be
Our luxury!

Futile the winds
To a heart in port, --
Done with the compass
Done with the chart.

Rowing in Eden!
Ah! The sea!
Might I but moor
To-night with thee!

In Memoriam AHH

(So this poem is epically long, these are just my favs. Note that it wasn't Shakespeare who wrote the famous couplet in the first stanza. Also, he was probably lovers with this guy, tidbit of gossip. Tell people you love them now, so when they are gone you don't have to write pages and pages over years and years...)

I hold it true, whate'er befall;
I feel it, when I sorrow most;
'Tis better to have loved and lost
Than never to have loved at all.
***
I sometimes hold it half a sin
To put in words the grief I feel;
For words, like Nature, half reveal
And half conceal the Soul within.
But, for the unquiet heart and brain,
A use in measured language lies;
The sad mechanic exercise,
Like dull narcotics, numbing pain.
In words, like weeds, I'll wrap me o'er,
Like coarsest clothes against the cold;
But that large grief which these enfold
Is given in outline and no more

Navaho Prayer

(So I'm trying to explore poetry from other cultures... this is ov native american, and i want it to be how I live my life. A lot of beautiful things. So this is dedicated to you all, remebering that this place is a beautiful gift...)

Beauty before me
Beauty behind me
Beauty below me
Beauty around me
With beauty I speak
I am in peace and harmony
Beauty it is
Beauty it is
Beauty it is
Beauty it is

Lucille Cliffton, 2 Poems

(This amazing poetess just die. So this is my homage to her, she has an amazing body of work these are two fairly well known, fairly obviously feminine. Check out her stuff...http://www.nytimes.com/2010/02/17/arts/17clifton.html?scp=1&sq=lucille%20clifton&st=cse)

Homage to My Hips

these hips are big hips.
they need space to
move around in.
they don't fit into little
petty places. these hips
are free hips.
they don't like to be held back.
these hips have never been enslaved,
they go where they want to go
they do what they want to do.
these hips are mighty hips.
these hips are magic hips.
i have known them
to put a spell on a man and
spin him like a top


Poem in praise of menstruation

if there is a river
more beautiful than this
bright as the blood
red edge of the moon if
there is a river
more faithful than this
returning each month
to the same delta if there

is a river
braver than this
coming and coming in a surge
of passion, of pain if there is

a river
more ancient than this
daughter of eve
mother of cain and of abel if there is in

the universe such a river if
there is some where water
more powerful than this wild
water

pray that it flows also
through animals

beautiful and faithful and ancient
and female and brave

prose poem thoughts (sometime spring semester senior year hs, 2005)

(We'll call this a prose poem, but it's really stream of consciousness bullshit. I was such a baby, but honestly, some of that sounds smarter than the crap I tend to espouse now. Excuse all the bad abbreviations and lack of punctuation, I've left it unfixed for authenticity's sake haha...)

i think peanut butter by the spoon is truely a comfort food. i think a man should always talk to you like ur the first woman hes ever known and wanted. he should look at you like you make the world new. he should kiss you like yours are the first lips hes tasted. no regrets is different then wishing things could be different or wishing you could stay. letting go is the hardest thing in life. goodbye hurts like nothing else ull ever say or hear.