ETERNAL MOOD, VALENTINE’S DAY

Image result for the kiss in renaissance painting

You cannot think this will be an end to this.

Once something is said

It is never dead.

Protection was not necessary. The kiss

Is all. The rest, the anxiety of dogs.

Do you think this—can be an end, to this?

Things will end. But this will never end,

And to think this, will be an end, to this,

Is the end of all your happiness.

All that went before,

All that was already there for you to adore,

Do you think you can understand it better

With thoughts that follow? With a scrawled letter?

Do you think you can detach yourself and know

What is separate from the flow

That can never go?

This can never go.

Breathe the air circulating between, and inside, the words,

The “Edgar,” the “Allan,” the “Poe,”

The repetitions of musical birds,

Leading finally to speech, and words

Which make it hard to understand again.

Do not think an end to this

Is possible. In this kiss,

You and I supply

Towers for the unusual sky—

Rising mist, as adjective, or noun,

Before it lets itself, gently, back down.

 

3 Comments

  1. Desdi said,

    February 14, 2020 at 11:54 pm

  2. thomasbrady said,

    February 15, 2020 at 12:37 pm

    Here’s Scarrietmeister Tom fooling around:

    • Desdi said,

      February 17, 2020 at 4:18 pm

      Catchy little ditty.

      The Hindus have a good one: “Holi”
      (They get to throw red paint on each other.)


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