STRANGE RUE
Marinated with your rue, and intellectual
Two, not one in primacy, that being gorilla,
I fall into our morning evening ritual
And with my teeth tug out the flotilla.
Oh you make me tow a heavy line,
With cashmere sweaters, invisible cloaks--
I nightly imbibe your stash of French wine,
Morning tea; the aura Earl Grey tea evokes
Encircles my head as well as my nose,
Bringing in the yacht of dream to woo me.
Your garden produce, promises of rose
With walks in hand and travel on the sea
Are things I both desire and need:
I respond to them as water to a seed.
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
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I think it is a poem in praise of those things that nurture the body and the soul simultaneously--that doubly-receptive capacity being one of the features distinguishing us from our primate ancestors. Or is it human vanity to think so?
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