I expect to pass through this world but once. Any good thing, therefore, that I can do, or any kindness that I can show to any fellow creature, let me do it now. Let me not defer or neglect it, for I shall not pass this way again…
“… At such a moment, most of them became whole and complete to the point of being cinematic, speaking with a sense of drama, intuitively aware that an unequal relationship creates a stage that demands theatre.”
– The Story of my Assassins, (Melville House edn., 2012, p.36)
Rom: …Then love-devouring death do what he dare;
It is enough I may but call her mine.
Friar: These violent delights have violent ends
And in their triumph die, like fire and powder,
Which, as they kiss, consume. The sweetest honey
Is loathsome in his own deliciousness
And in the taste confounds the appetite.
Therefore love moderately; long love doth so;
Too swift arrives as tardy as too slow.
– W.S. R & J 2,vii
i flipped on Baz’ version of R&J
and half paid attention
treating it more like background radio
not having a radio here
these words leapt out
for some fairly obvious reasons
and reminded me of every old love
(and one or two)
fire and powder
as they kiss
The second line of final couplet
strikes me as forced
(but i’m probably just resistant)
She is thinking of the tart, thumb-sized plums
they ate together, and of one in particular.
Unremarkable, except it was the last he gave her.
Of what it was, to stand in the small stone
kitchen, tasting the bittersweet strings
of fruit clinigng to wood. The intimacy
in those ruins. Saying plum and not yet
meaning heartache. Letting the ordinary become the last.
— Sarah Holland-Batt, Aria p56
Ves estas manos? Han medido
la tierra, han separado
los minerales y los cereales,
han hecho la paz y la guerra,
han derribado las distancias
de todos los mares y ríos,
y sin embargo
cuando te recorren
a ti, pequeña,
grano de trigo, alondra,
no alcanzan a abarcarte,
se cansan alcanzando
las palomas gemelas
que reposan o vuelan en tu pecho,
recorren las distancias de tus piernas,
se enrollan en la luz de tu cintura.
Para mí eres tesoro más cargado
de inmensidad que el mar y sus racimos
y eres blanca y azul y extensa como
la tierra en la vendimia.
En ese territorio,
de tus pies a tu frente,
andando, andando, andando,
me pasaré la vida.
I think it’s the combination
of the sentiments contained within
A Place to Stay and Patience Darling
that make me wonder…when…
When you’ll decide I’m not on your boat
Or wearing the right uniform
That I’m not one of the good ones
Because once I was there, then wasn’t.
I’m hoping that that doesn’t happen
But there really are no guarantees
You might invent any number of reasons
To fulfill your beliefs as you please
So all I can do is my best
Which really doesn’t feel much
But I’ll love you the only way I know
And hope that it’s always enough.
– Natasha Agafonoff
Your absence has gone through me
Like thread through a needle.
Everything I do is stitched with its color.
W. S. Merwin, “Separation” from The Second Four Books of Poems (Port Townsend, Washington: Copper Canyon Press, 1993). Copyright © 1993 by W. S. Merwin. Reprinted with the permission of The Wylie Agency, Inc.Source: Poetry (January 1962).