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Posts Tagged ‘carpe diem’

Carpe Diem


 
Every day you have less reason not to give yourself away.
                  —Wendell Berry, 1993, I
 
 
Knowing today brings the day of my death
one day closer, I decide to love you more.
By which I mean, I decide
to practice letting myself be
exactly who I am and letting you be
exactly who you are and noticing how
love grows in that most rich soil—
not the thick clay of longing for things
to be different, but the good loam
of reality. Our time here is too dear
to be spent with fruitless wishing.
In this generous earth of allowing,
what might grow? Real love.
The kind that requires nothing
but our laughter and tears,
our anger and forgiveness, our frustration
and tenderness. I feel love root anew
in this ground where soon enough
I, too, will belong. Do you feel it, too,
the blooming between us, this love
that asks only for us
to be faithfully ourselves?

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Michelangelo wrote his love

forty-eight funeral epigrams—

not one of them brought back

the shoulders like chiseled marble,

the purr of his voice, his lips raw silk

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So Thirsty

If you follow a bee,

my friend says, it will lead you

to water. Suddenly

I have never been

so thirsty. I have spent

too much time living

close to the water

without drinking.

I have spent too many hours

not following bees.

I have my excuses—

all the ways I like

to appear busy-ish—

but they all have the same

stale scent excuses always have.

In the tombs of Egypt,

they found honey,

perfectly preserved.

Some things keep.

I look at my dry hands.

Some things have only

so much time.

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What the Spring Said

You can’t tell tulips
to unbloom,

you can’t unsing
last evening’s tune,

the shadow can’t undark
the moon,

you can’t unlove,
unbreathe, unswoon,

but wishes can be
ever wished

new bridges can be
ever crossed

so many kisses
still to kiss

before you unlive
unlaugh, dust.

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every day the right day
to smell the lily as if
never again

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young girls in pink
tutus—it’s hard to believe
we’re all dying

*

anti-aging conference?
we argue and research
how to stay young,
meanwhile, on our shelves
drums and flutes gather dust

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despite the wind,
hail, chill,
it blossoms now
oh yellow rose
made of my heart

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