He was touched or he touched or
she did and was, or they were
and would. Or the room could, its
three doors, two windows or
the house on a slant touching,
touched by the drift down street, cars
pressing quick or slowing. All along
the town touched a river, the river
As if anyone has the desire ...
Vickey trailed off, pouring another lager
There'll be nothing left
But fur and bone, as my lawyer once explained
To my ex, she resumed, tapping a long cigarette
On the bar. My, you're a bit snarky tonight
Said Luther. Maybe you need a change of venue,
A beach with your breath on it
Oh, she replied, nodding towards the far corner booth,
These writers are so obnoxious
I wish they'd find a new place to complain.
Ha, said Hillary, they wouldn't know a good story
At the table, at the grave not knowing
whether to grieve or celebrate, they seemed
to find a way within the stalled noon clatter
and the dusk over oily swamps and elder tangle
along a locked stockade of heavy machines,
as the blue heron, looking down, flew farther on.
Nothing dissolved for them the mortal green
and black in transparent power of spacious streams
now gone from earth. The flickering they found,
terror-hope-terror, in fire of sunset clouds
remained unwavering in its progress to night
I have a yong suster
Fer beyonden the se,
Many be the drowryes
That she sente me.
She sente me the cherye
Withouten ony ston;
And so she dede the dove
Withouten ony bon.
She sente me the brer
Withouten ony rinde;
She bad me love my lemman
Withoute longing.
How shuld ony cherye
Be withoute ston?
And how shuld ony dove
Be withoute bon?
How shuld ony brer
Been withoute rinde?
How shuld I love myn lemman
Withoute longing?
I saw my Lady weep,
And Sorrow proud to be advanced so
In those fair eyes, where all perfections keep;
Her face was full of woe,
But such a woe (believe me) as wins more hearts
Than mirth can do, with her enticing parts.
Sorrow was there made fair,
And Passion, wise; Tears, a delightful thing;
Silence, beyond all speech, a wisdom rare;
She made her sighs to sing,
And all things with so sweet a sadness move;
As made my heart both grieve and love.
Now goth sonne under wod:
Me reweth, Marye, thy faire rode.
Now goth sonne under tree:
Me reweth, Marye, thy sone and thee.
Quick! quick!
The cat's been sick.
Where? where?
Under the chair.
Hasten! hasten!
Fetch the basin.
Alack! alack!
It is too late,
The carpet's in
An awful state.
A woman’ s looks
Are barbed hooks,
That catch by art
The strongest heart,
When yet they spend no breath.
But let them speak,
And sighing break
Forth into tears,
Their words are spears
That wound our souls to death.
The rarest wit
Earth took of earth, earth with woe,
Earth other earth to the earth added;
Earth laid earth in an earthen grave.
Then had earth of earth enough earth.
My pa he didn’ t go to town
Last evening after tea,
But got a book and settled down
As comfy as could be.
I’ ll tell you I was offul glad
To have my pa about
To answer all the things I had
Been tryin’ to find out.
