*the skies* · 04/09/2010

“i carry your heart with me, i carry it in
my heart, i am never without it anywhere
i go you go, my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing, my darling i fear

no fate for you are my fate, my sweet i want
no world for beautiful you are my world, my true
and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide
and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart, i carry it in my heart”

  1. I wished …I posted this perfect Cummings’ poem as a comment, for it says exactly
    how I feel.
    Thank you.

    T    13/09/2010    #
  2. And Our Faces,
    My Heart,
    Brief as Photos

    by J. Berger

    “What reconciles me to my own death more than anything else is the image of a place where your bones and mine are buried, thrown, uncovered, together. They are strewn there pell-mell. One of your ribs leans against my skull. A metacarpal of my left hand lies inside your pelvis. (Against my broken ribs your breast like a flower.) The hundred bones of our feet are scattered like gravel. It is strange that this image of our proximity, concerning as it does mere phosphate of calcium, should bestow a sense of peace. Yet it does. With you I can imagine a place where to be phosphate of calcium is enough.”

    Tanja    17/09/2010    #
  3. “i am so glad and very
    merely my fourth will cure
    the laziest self of weary
    the hugest sea of shore

    so far your nearness reaches
    a lucky fifth of you
    turns people into eachs
    and cowards into grow

    our can’ts were born to happen
    (in 2011)
    our mosts have died in more
    our twentieth will open
    wide a wide open door

    we are so both and oneful
    night cannot be so sky
    sky cannot be so sunful
    i am through you so i “

    Tanja    19/09/2010    #