Topic expansion: Poetry
Thanks for your eloquent and sometimes very kind comments in the last post, everyone. You reminded me of why I'm here, and I think you've helped me figure out what was missing, at least for me. I'm kind of making a unilateral decision here, but I think it's needed. Sometimes I tire of dry philosophy. I want poetry. Poetry crosses all boundaries. I love to read slowly, letting the words fall one by one, letting my brain roll them around a bit before moving on. Maybe we can have a discussion about favorite poets, too. There's a lot of crossover with Zen, anyway.
So let's make this a Zen and Poetry blog for a while, OK? I'll start with one of my favorites, by Mark Strand:
Ink runs from the corners of my mouth.
There is no happiness like mine.
I have been eating poetry.
The librarian does not believe what she sees.
Her eyes are sad
and she walks with her hands in her dress.
The poems are gone.
The light is dim.
The dogs are on the basement stairs and coming up.
Their eyeballs roll,
their blond legs burn like brush.
The poor librarian begins to stamp her feet and weep.
She does not understand.
When I get on my knees and lick her hand,
I am a new man.
I snarl at her and bark.
I romp with joy in the bookish dark.