Because I love you last night

E.E. Cummings, full-length portrait, facing le...

E.E. Cummings, full-length portrait, facing left, wearing hat and coat / World-Telegram photo by Walter Albertin. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Because I love you last night

because I love you last night


clothed in sea lace

appeared to me

your mind drifting

with chuckling rubbish

of pearl weed coral and stones;


lifted, and(before my

eyes sinking)inward, fled; softly

your face smile breasts gargled

by death:drowned only


again carefully through deepness to rise

these your wrists

thighs feet hands



to again utterly disappear;

rushing gently swiftly creeping

through my dreams last

night, all of your

body with its spirit floated

clothed only in


the tide’s acute weaving murmur

E.E. Cummings



A Sequence of Embraces

A Sequence of Embraces

by Irina Kuzminsky

I have spoken to the birds of Paradise

Why go there to seek the houri?
She walks beside you on the sacred earth.

I am air
I am the wind’s embrace
Warm breeze caressing skin
Zephyrs ruffling hair
Cold gusts sharpening minds
Storm winds to ride to your destiny
And whirlwinds to clear out your house —

May the winds come to you
From the North, East, West, South
Choose the wind your life needs
In your seasons of need
My embrace
The embrace of the wind

Not my embrace — but fire
Not my waves — but water
Not my touch — but air
That you may know the sacredness of earth

Embrace me and embrace soul
Lips to lips
Eyes to eyes
Awakening me — you

I embrace and assert what I am
Serving you serve my essence
Comingle with me and awaken into emptiness
Penetrate me and know your own depths

For I am She who flows
She who changes
I am She who awakens
Desire — Your desire for your

Be not afraid
To break all forms with love
I say —
Let nightingales sing in the rose of your heart.

This final service I have now performed
— so free me of embraces
Of all that I agreed to
before I came

Troubadours and troubatritzes have long sung
Of the secret
I proclaim: let love remove every covering
So shall I go naked
Into the rain
— And dance

Fill the core at my centre Beloved
And release the song in me
The dance in me
Thus centred and grounded
Words flow
Bodies flow
And I sing

Daddy by Sylvia plath

Sylvia Plath

Sylvia Plath (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

by Sylvia Plath
You do not do, you do not do

Any more, black shoe

In which I have lived like a foot

For thirty years, poor and white,

Barely daring to breathe or Achoo.


Daddy, I have had to kill you.

You died before I had time–

Marble-heavy, a bag full of God,

Ghastly statue with one gray toe

Big as a Frisco seal


And a head in the freakish Atlantic

Where it pours bean green over blue

In the waters off beautiful Nauset.

I used to pray to recover you.

Ach, du.


In the German tongue, in the Polish town

Scraped flat by the roller

Of wars, wars, wars.

But the name of the town is common.

My Polack friend


Says there are a dozen or two.

So I never could tell where you

Put your foot, your root,

I never could talk to you.

The tongue stuck in my jaw.


It stuck in a barb wire snare.

Ich, ich, ich, ich,

I could hardly speak.

I thought every German was you.

And the language obscene


An engine, an engine

Chuffing me off like a Jew.

A Jew to Dachau, Auschwitz, Belsen.

I began to talk like a Jew.

I think I may well be a Jew.


The snows of the Tyrol, the clear beer of Vienna

Are not very pure or true.

With my gipsy ancestress and my weird luck

And my Taroc pack and my Taroc pack

I may be a bit of a Jew.


I have always been scared of you,

With your Luftwaffe, your gobbledygoo.

And your neat mustache

And your Aryan eye, bright blue.

Panzer-man, panzer-man, O You–


Not God but a swastika

So black no sky could squeak through.

Every woman adores a Fascist,

The boot in the face, the brute

Brute heart of a brute like you.


You stand at the blackboard, daddy,

In the picture I have of you,

A cleft in your chin instead of your foot

But no less a devil for that, no not

Any less the black man who


Bit my pretty red heart in two.

I was ten when they buried you.

At twenty I tried to die

And get back, back, back to you.

I thought even the bones would do.


But they pulled me out of the sack,

And they stuck me together with glue.

And then I knew what to do.

I made a model of you,

A man in black with a Meinkampf look


And a love of the rack and the screw.

And I said I do, I do.

So daddy, I’m finally through.

The black telephone’s off at the root,

The voices just can’t worm through.


If I’ve killed one man, I’ve killed two–

The vampire who said he was you

And drank my blood for a year,

Seven years, if you want to know.

Daddy, you can lie back now.


There’s a stake in your fat black heart

And the villagers never liked you.

They are dancing and stamping on you.

They always knew it was you.

Daddy, daddy, you bastard, I’m through.

12 October 1962