106. In a Station of the Metro, by Ezra Pound

It would be so stupid not to include this somewhere in my blog, as it is the single most provoking thing I've ever read, as Blake wrote in his 'Proverbs of Hell': "One Thought Fills Immensity." Here it is, that one thought...

106. In a Station of the Metro

The apparition of these faces in the crowd;

Petals on a wet, black bough.

Ezra Pound (1884)

The Highest Form of Flattery

One at a time

Then both together.

The second and the minute hand

simultaneous

in the movement

one minute

    one second 

past twelve.  A

fragment of a movement

light reflected on a strand of hair

Rolling clouds 

   through rotting windows

pass over

    poppy fields.

Wistful, 

as a sweet wrapper

roly-polying down the street.

Once removed

Separated

Kept

as an old puzzle.

Still belonging!

And still, 

the pieces fit together. Both together as a 

remembered child.

And When I Was Juliet

And the end only

marked the beginning of something new

And the end only

made me realise I was a figment

And in the end

you had your head shaved

you just said

"I had to get the Romeo out of me."

Only

At that time

I clung to the star 

I'd hung around my neck

And wished it was as easy as

shaving your head.

My lips had turned into my eyes

it sounded to me as if I were water.

The past

drifted along like a bag without its contents

blowing in the wind.

And in the end

I only really told you anything

Through the window

so you couldn't hear

It's easy to scrape

finger marks down the arms of your chair,

but it's harder to admit 

you miss being everyone's idol...

Even if you weren't.

And in the end

who was I?

And the end only 

showed me I didn't know myself.

And most of all, most of all.

The sun went to sleep

And when I woke,

I was not the star I'd planned

And in the end

I was the moon,

reflecting someone else's light.

Do What You Do

WIth my arms flung about myself, and all the wish to leave alone.
Today I sat in abandon. 
Making hearts in the sand with my hot finger tips
How I sat, in my September dress,
Just left of the summer, when the days grow longer and broader.

How he strummed his finely tuned guitar,

Hidden in two.
All the light in his eyes and his soft warm touch
And the pads on the floorboards.
The lifelessness of your sleeping corpse

A toast my 

love

To something we share.

Stamping in glass slippers.

Something

I am a 

leaf, opening up.

Like something

I am

almost saying to you.

I am the

heart murmur

like someone

who is 

too afraid to shout.

I am the

candle twinkle

because someone

blew me out.

I am that

broken window crack

I am the 

wind that whistles through.

I am a

sorry girl

with my hands behind my back.

Sincerely, Your Friend and Lover

This is just something little...

I wait for him, my stone

he makes me.

Tremble the fire against my skin

I will wait for him.

Rain drops and you are my eyes and my limbs

You draw me.

listen pathways done

he will see.

Locking your door and your heart and your fingers

resting them on your chin.

Cracking that smile but then

takes a while

Sometimes I can't see the wood for the trees

sometimes I can't hear the birds for the bees.

the birds and the bees

and the bees

Write me a letter for once, 

sign it

say something, whatever

anything you like.

Answer me.

Your friend and lover.

I can't stop the leaves falling from those trees but 

sometimes I can't see the love for the greed.

I can't show you how.

I can't see for looking

I can't see the wood for the trees.

I can't always say what I mean.

Your Friend and Lover.