Do not go through life only choosing easy love// danielle dolby

poem11.
Do not go through life only choosing easy love
danielle dolby

Do not go through life only choosing easy love.
Family love.
Friend love.
The ones you hold close, love.
Instead, also choose the messy love.
The one that challenges everything you
believe in, love.
The you are not like me, but I chose you over my comfort, love.
The one that sees past experience, judgement, or
question of whether or not others are of
receiving it, love.
The divine love.
The universal love.
The all-belonging love.
It's a build a bridge between two differences,
meeting you in the middle to show others it can
be done, love.
The leading in love, love.
And that love, well that's the beginning of
everything, love.

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening // Robert Frost

poem10.
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
Robert Frost

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village, though:
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

from 7 // Pablo Neruda

poem9.
from 7
Pablo Neruda

Even in these steep
years
with a clear view of
the mountain range of my life
after having
climbed
the vertical snow
and reched
the diaphanous plateau
of unwavering light
I see you
near the snail-peddling sea
hoarding pinches
of sand
wasting time with
birds
that wing across
a marine loneliness

W.S. Merwin // The Present

poem8.
W.S. Merwin
The Present

As they were leaving the garden
one of the angels bent down to then and whispered

I am to give you this
as you are leaving the garden

I do not know what it is
nor what it is for
what you will do with it

you will not be able to keep it
but you will not be able

to keep anything
yet they both reached at once

for the present
and when their hands met

they laughed

Again, the Body // Lucia Perillo

poem7.
Again, the Body
Lucia Perillo

When you spend many hours alone in a room
you have more than the usual chances to disgust yourself--
that is the problem of the body, not that it is mortal
but that it is mortifying.  When we were young they taught us
do not touch it, but who can keep from touching it,
from scratching off the juicy scab?

Alamo Theory // Josh Bell

poem 6.
Alamo Theory
Josh Bell

How we loved your pork chops, fell out of carriages
to love them.  When time was a problem.  At first how cautiously, but then how many

and how often.  Why we broke into their bones
like they were banks, tossed our plunder to the river's

bloated crib. How we loved your pork chops, dreamed them sliced by rising helicopter
     blades
from a pink strip of daybreak, saw then drop like stone tablets into soy fields

and how the helicopters followed, dropping like banks into soy fields
the green of dental floss. Wherein we watched ourselves in hand mirrors, eating your
     pork chops

and claiming your pork chops loved us back. How you left so many bodies behind
when time was a problem.

Silver Tunnels // Cynthia West

poem5.
Silver Tunnels
Cynthia West

When I planted
the heavenly blue morning glories
in a pot outside my window
     I dreamed of mouths spiraling open
     translucent
     in late evening light. I slid
     through their lips in tunnels that led
     to the rising moon.

Although I don't have the maps
to those silver throats,
     the holes ripped in my skin by tears
     show me the way.

Warm and wet under straw mulch,
     the seeds germinate.
     Sprinkling them often, I watch
     for the first heart-shaped leaves.

I nail strings to the roof, tie them to poles.
     The vines reach up, forming a ladder
     I climb into the eye of the night.

maggie and milly and molly and may // e e cummings

poem4
maggie and milly and molly and may // e e cummings

maggie and milly and molly and may
went down to the beach (to play one day)

and maggie discovered a shell that sang
so sweetly she couldn't remember her troubles, and

milly befriended a stranded star
whose rays five languid fingers were;

and molly was chased by a horrible thing
which raced sideways while blowing bubbles; and

may came home with a smooth round stone
as small as a world and as large as alone.

For whatever we lose (like a you or a me)
it's always ourselves we find in the sea

Falling Up// Shel Silverstein

poem3.
Falling Up
Shel Silverstein

I tripped on my shoelace
And I fell up--
Up to the rooftops,
Up over the town,
Up past the tree tops,
Up over the mountains,
Up where the colors
Blend into the sounds.
But it got me so dizzy
When I looked around,
I got sick to my stomacxh
And I threw down.

It is No Dream of Mine// Henry David Thoreau

poem2
It is No Dream of Mine
Henry David Thoreau

It is no dream of mine,
To ornament a line;
I cannot come nearer to God and Heaven
Than I live to Walden even.
I am its stony shore,
And the breeze that passes o'er;
In the hollow of my hand
Are its water and its sand,
And its deepest resort
Lies high in my thought.

I am reading to the los beautiful beasties one poem a day (mas o menos) to honor: Truth. Protest. Beauty. Awareness. Engagement. Honesty. Love. Change. Humans. To honor this fragile, exceptional Earth.

Is Love
Maya Angelou

Midwives and winding sheets
know birthing is hard
and dying is mean
and living's a trial in between.

Why do we journey, muttering
like rumors among the stars?
Is a dimension lost?
Is it love?