TO A STRANGER. - Walt Whitman

PASSING stranger! you do not know how longingly I

look upon you,
You must be he I was seeking, or she I was seeking,

(it comes to me, as of a dream,)
I have somewhere surely lived a life of joy with you,
All is recall’d as we flit by each other, fluid, affection-

ate, chaste, matured,
You grew up with me, were a boy with me or a girl

with me,
I ate with you, and slept with you— your body has

become not yours only, nor left my body mine

only,
You give me the pleasure of your eyes, face, flesh, as

we pass— you take of my beard, breast, hands,

in return,
I am not to speak to you—I am to think of you when

I sit alone, or wake at night alone,
I am to wait— I do not doubt I am to meet you again,
I am to see to it that I do not lose you.

dial tone - Riley R.

The saddest poem I ever wrote

was the “goodbye” I whispered

on the skin of your temple

so softly you didn’t hear it

until the fifth time you called

and I didn’t pick up

when the voicemail you left

was ten seconds of silence

followed by a sigh

as you took the phone from your ear.

THE BOTTOM LINE - Richard Shelton

                                                       For William Stafford

You and I think about it: who pays

the price for the way we live?

Some people live so still

they incur no expenses. Others,

so wild there's the Devil to pay.

Some don't even know they're in debt

and others go slow to avoid it.

People like you pay as you go

and people like me live in debt,

but we know who we owe. I owe

a woman, a good woman, and I

will never be able to pay.

People like you are beautiful

and free of all debt. The best

that can be said for people like me

is that we know who we owe.

Lightness - Meg Bateman (translated from the Gaelic)

It was your lightness that drew me,

the lightness of your talk and your laughter,

the lightness of your cheek in my hands,

your sweet gentle modest lightness;

and it is the lightness of your kiss

that is starving my mouth,

and the lightness of your embrace

that will let me go adrift.

New World - Louise Glück

As I saw it,

all my mother's life, my father

held her down, like

lead strapped to her ankles.

She was

buoyant by nature;

she wanted to travel,

go to theater, go to museums.

What he wanted

was to lie on the couch

with the Times

over his face,

so that death, when it came,

wouldn't seem a significant change.

In couples like this,

where the agreement

is to do things together,

it's always the active one

who concedes, who gives.

You can't go to museums

with someone who won't

open his eyes.

I thought my father's death

would free my mother.

In a sense, it has:

she takes trips, looks at

great art. But she's floating.

Like some child's balloon

that gets lost the minute

it isn't held.

Or like an astronaut

who somehow loses the ship

and has to drift in space

knowing, however long it lasts,

this is what's left of being alive: she's free

in that sense.

Without relation to earth.

Semi Semi Dash - Jillian Weise

The last time I saw Big Logos he was walking

to the Quantum Physics Store to buy magnets.

He told me his intentions. He was wearing

a jumpsuit with frayed cuffs. I thought the cuffs

got that way from him rubbing them against

his lips but he said they got that way

with age. We had two more blocks to walk.

“Once I do this, what are you going to do?”

he asked. “I wish you wouldn’t do it,” I said.

Big Logos bought the magnets and a crane

delivered them to his house. After he built

the 900-megahertz superconductor, I couldn’t go

to his house anymore because I have all kinds

of metal in my body. I think if you love someone,

you shouldn’t do that, build something like that,

on purpose, right in front of them.

Being in Love - Marvin Bell

with someone who is not in love with

you, you understand my predicament.

Being in love with you, who are not

in love with me, you understand my dilemma.

Being in love with your being in love

with me, which you are not, you understand

the difficulty. Being in love with your

being, you can well imagine how hard it is.

Being in love with your being you,

no matter you are not your being being in

love with me, you can appreciate and pity

being in love with you. Being in love

with someone who is not in love, you know

all about being in love when being in love

is being in love with someone who is not

in love being with you, which is

being in love, which you know only too well,

Love, being in love with being in love.

Icarus in Love. - Unknown

I loved you as

Icarus loved

The sun –

Too close,

Too much.

Do Not Make Things Too Easy - Martha Baird

Do not make things too easy.

There are rocks and abysses in the mind

As well as meadows.

There are things knotty and hard: intractable.

Do not talk to me of love and understanding.

I am sick of blandishments.

I want the rock to be met by a rock.

If I am vile, and behave hideously,

Do not tell me it was just a misunderstanding.

Debt - Sara Teasdale

What do I owe to you

     Who loved me deep and long?

You never gave my spirit wings

     Nor gave my heart a song.

But oh, to him I loved,

     Who loved me not at all,

I owe the little open gate

     That led through heaven’s wall.

you fit into me - Margaret Atwood

you fit into me

like a hook into an eye

a fish hook

an open eye

"In the desert" - Stephen Crane

In the desert

I saw a creature, naked, bestial,

Who, squatting upon the ground,

Held his heart in his hands,

And ate of it.

I said: “Is it good, friend?”

“It is bitter—bitter,” he answered;

“But I like it

Because it is bitter,

And because it is my heart.”

Remember How Sad That Was When - Paul Guest

I missed sadness because I no longer missed you,

how emotionally counterintuitive it was

as my citizenship in the nation I made of you

gradually lapsed. I woke some other

place with lakes and blue skies and rush hours

and strangers I worried about. But no you.

No ages of you. No your name three times

when I walked somewhere or lay down at night

to bargain with sleep. No you

falling from my mouth everywhere I went.

No you anywhere to be seen.

A secret to keep. And mostly I did,

even beside other women who asked

with the privilege of their bodies

if you had ever existed and what did you do

and did you have a name I’d share

and had you been good to me

but I never gave you up. I left the last of you

to be lost in the fog inside me.

Napping in bomb craters, haggling

over debts I couldn’t deny were mine,

memorizing every month’s horoscope.

It seemed then the days

you had left me stained in sadness

were like that. Good apples on back order from God

and the steaks full of blood

you taught me to love, rationed.

At least I told myself this,

thinking of all the never you were.

But there were limits and lengths

and limits again. There were

songs inside the fog inside the world.

Intrusion - Denise Levertov

After I had cut off my hands

and grown new ones

something my former hands had longed for

came and asked to be rocked.

After my plucked out eyes

had withered, and new ones grown

something my former eyes had wept for

came asking to be pitied.

Habits - Nikki Giovanni

i haven’t written a poem in so long

i may have forgotten how

unless writing a poem

is like riding a bike

or swimming upstream

or loving you

it may be a habit that once acquired

is never lost

but you say i’m foolish

of course you love me

but being loved of course

is not the same as being loved because

or being loved despite

or being loved

if you love me why

do i feel so lonely

and why do i always wake up alone

and why am i practicing

not having you to love

i never loved you that way

remains - Charles Bukowski

things are good as I am not dead yet

and the rats move in the beercans,

the papersacks shuffle like small dogs,

and her photographs are stuck onto a painting

by a dead German and she too is dead

and it took 14 years to know her

and if they give me another 14

I will know her yet . . .

her photos stuck over the glass

neither move nor speak,

but I even have her voice on tape,

and she speaks some evenings,

her again

so real she laughs

says the thousand things,

the one thing I always ignored;

this will never leave me:

that I had love

and love died;

a photo and a piece of tape

is not much, I have learned late,

but give me 14 days or 14 years,

I will kill any man

who would touch or take

whatever's left.

SONGS FOR AN ENDING - Theodore Spencer

                      1

Goodbye, goodbye my darling,

Goodbye to all our past.

Love that hovered trembling

Has sprung away at last.

But Oh before that shudder,

Before that final spring,

The towering of his glory,

The splendor of his wing!

                     2

The quiet and usual word

We took for granted,

The word we wanted

And always heard,

Two vowels, two consonants,

The female and male word

Monosyllabically one

That was our union --

The word 'Love' has fallen

Most suddenly apart,

And my hampered tongue

Lacking the vowels it wants,

Stricken to consonants,

Speaks everything wrong,

Has no speech at all,

Has lost its calling,

The sweet vowels gone.

                     3

Now, my darling,

Oh now good-bye:

Love's wings are furling

In our present sky.

And we walk apart

Away from the other's

Abandoned heart,

While difficultly

The mind smothers

Grief for We

Become You and I.

Oh we walk slowly,

But forever, away

From the once half holy

Place of our day,

Knowing our love

Is done, is done.

Yet though we starve,

Braver alone.

                     4

"The longest love is this:

     To love and not to have.

To thrust love overboard,

     Makes love most safe."

I'd heard such things before;

     Foolish (I thought)

To save by loss.  But now

     I know it's not.

Oh lovers, learn that love

     Does more than drown

When thrust overboard; it forever

     Anchors you for its own. 

If You Forget Me - Pablo Neruda

I want you to know

one thing.

You know how this is:

if I look

at the crystal moon, at the red branch

of the slow autumn at my window,

if I touch

near the fire

the impalpable ash

or the wrinkled body of the log,

everything carries me to you,

as if everything that exists,

aromas, light, metals,

were little boats

that sail

toward those isles of yours that wait for me.

Well, now,

if little by little you stop loving me

I shall stop loving you little by little.

If suddenly

you forget me

do not look for me,

for I shall already have forgotten you.

If you think it long and mad,

the wind of banners

that passes through my life,

and you decide

to leave me at the shore

of the heart where I have roots,

remember

that on that day,

at that hour,

I shall lift my arms

and my roots will set off

to seek another land.

But

if each day,

each hour,

you feel that you are destined for me

with implacable sweetness,

if each day a flower

climbs up to your lips to seek me,

ah my love, ah my own,

in me all that fire is repeated,

in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,

my love feeds on your love, beloved,

and as long as you live it will be in your arms

without leaving mine