12 October 2013
What is love? It is my sister, baking carrot cake from scratch at two in the morning, just so we can surprise our father at breakfast. Today’s his birthday.
Not Over It
In sympathy with Gaspara Stampa
By woman so touched, so pressed,
detachment being thought
achievable at all
is boggling in itself. Its being
thought achievable by love—but love
for only all (not someone’s single) sentience—
appears the precept of too cold
a form of flame. How much
of a hand in things
relinquishes the hold
What kiss might such
a mind reclaim? A swirl of dust
in Buddhist schools, perhaps.
A view of several solar
systems from above.
appeals as it appals:
Slow learners, we must spurn
the selving sensualities, to feel
for feelers of this kind,
unfasten passion’s burner
to identify what’s under it—
in short, must court
to be compassionate.
A student said about ModPo: “My thirsty love for poetry is fed well and nurtured by this course.”
Off to bed now. It’s silly, my sleeping pattern makes it look like we’re almost in the same timezone.