Sunday, October 19, 2008

Wind and Water and Stone

The water hollowed the stone,
the wind dispersed the water,
the stone stopped the wind.
Water and wind and stone.

The wind sculpted the stone,
the stone is a cup of water,
The water runs off and is wind.
Stone and wind and water.

The wind sings in its turnings,
the water murmurs as it goes,
the motionless stone is quiet.
Wind and water and stone.

One is the other and is neither:
among their empty names
they pass and disappear,
water and stone and wind.

Octavio Paz

Friday, July 18, 2008

We have seas, full of the sun;
We have trees, full of leaves;
From dawn to dusk we go and go and come
Among our seas, among our trees
Full of
The blues.

Sunday, May 25, 2008

My soul
Empty as the silence,
Empty with a vague,
Aching emptiness
Desiring,
Needing someone
Something ......
My hands
open the curtains of your being
clothe you in a further nudity
uncover the bodies of your body
My hands
invent another body for your body

Friday, May 09, 2008

There is a pleasure in the pathless woods,
There is a rapture on the lonely shore,
There is society, where none intrudes,
By the deep sea, and music in its roar:
I love not man the less, but Nature more,
From these our interviews, in which I steal
From all I may be, or have been before,
To mingle with the Universe, and feel
What I can ne'er express, yet cannot all conceal.

Saturday, May 03, 2008

it is not important
that you take your bag and leave
all women take their bags and leave
when they are angry.
it is not the important question
that i put out my cigarettes nervously
on the upholstery of the chair,
all men do that
when they are angry.
the matter is not that simple.
it is out of our hands.
we are two zeroes in the margin of love.
two lines written in pencil.
what is important is this:
the golden fish thrown to us by the sea
was squashed between our fingers.

Thursday, April 17, 2008

I know why the caged bird sings

A free bird leaps on the back
Of the wind and floats downstream
Till the current ends and dips his wing
In the orange suns rays
And dares to claim the sky.

But a BIRD that stalks down his narrow cage
Can seldom see through his bars of rage
His wings are clipped and his feet are tied
So he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings with a fearful trill
Of things unknown but longed for still
And his tune is heard on the distant hill for
The caged bird sings of freedom.

The free bird thinks of another breeze
And the trade winds soft through
The sighing trees
And the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright
Lawn and he names the sky his own.

But a caged BIRD stands on the grave of dreams
His shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
His wings are clipped and his feet are tied
So he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings with
A fearful trill of things unknown
But longed for still and his
Tune is heard on the distant hill
For the caged bird sings of freedom.