Lending Out Books | Hal Sirowitz
poetry365: You’re always giving, my therapist said. You have to learn how to take. Whenever you meed a woman, the first thing you do is lend her your books. You think she’ll have to see you again in order to return them. But what happens is, she doesn’t have the time to read them, & she’s afraid if she sees you again you’ll expect her to talk about them, & will want to lend her...
Pity, We Were A Good Invention | Yehuda Amichai
They amputated Your thighs from my waist. For me they are always Surgeons. All of them. They dismantled us One from another. For me they are engineers. Pity, We were a good and loving Invention: an airplane made of man and woman, Wings and all: We soared a bit from the earth, We flew a bit.
I Know A Man | Yehuda Amichai
I know a man who photographed the view he saw from the window of the room where he made love and not the face of the woman he loved there.
Love Letter | Sylvia Plath (for 4/19) →
Not easy to state the change you made. If I’m alive now, then I was dead, Though, like a stone, unbothered by it, Staying put according to habit. You didn’t just toe me an inch, no— Nor leave me to set my small bald eye Skyward again, without hope, of course, Of apprehending blueness, or stars. That wasn’t it. I slept, say: a snake Masked among black rocks as a black rock In the white...
Think of all the places your feet have taken you....
(An entry, here.)