Noon Music - Bob Dylan
"Things Have Changed", first heard playin' over the closing credits of the movie "Wonder Boys".
Music Posts
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Some Lineaments Of Gratified Desire
After a night spent
cradling my bawling desire
- how much we want from things and experiences: cities in rain, schools of fish swimming in coral bays, fossils dug from the flinty backs of high mountains, beautiful bodies of lovers to enter and leave as if they were cafes in Parisian sunlight, a taste of plums under the tongue, camphor smoke perfuming the hair, dancing with pomp like peacocks -
I wake up, brush my teeth, bring a kettle on the stove to boil, and break eggs over a sizzling griddle for breakfast, all the while humming Blake: "Bring me my arrows of desire! Bring me my spear! O clouds unfold! Bring me my chariot of fire!"
My Poems
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Lesson From The Kamasutra - Mahmoud Darwish
Wait for her with an azure cup.
Wait for her in the evening at the spring, among perfumed roses.
Wait for her with the patience of a horse trained for mountains.
Wait for her with the distinctive aesthetic knowledge of a prince.
Wait for her with the seven pillows of cloud.
Wait for her with strands of womanly incense wafting.
Wait for her with the manly scent of sandalwood on horseback.
Wait for her and do not rush.
If she arrives late, wait for her.
If she arrives early, wait for her.
Do not frighten the birds in her braided hair.
Wait for her so that she may sit in a garden
at the peak of its flowering.
Wait for her so that she may breathe this air
so strange to her heart.
Wait for her to lift her garment from her leg
cloud by cloud. And wait for her
Take her to the balcony to watch the moon drowning in milk.
Wait for her and offer her water before wine.
Do not glance at the twin partridges sleeping on her chest.
Wait and gently touch her hand as she sets a cup on marble.
As if you are carrying the dew from her wait.
Speak to her as a flute would
to a frightened violin string,
As if you knew what tomorrow would bring.
Wait, and polish the night for her ring by ring.
Wait for her until night speaks to you thus:
There is no one alive other than the two of you.
So take her gently to the death you so desire,
and wait.
(Translated from the Arabic by Carolyn Forché et. al)
Notes: I was very surprised to encounter such a sensous poem by one of the great poets of exile. Hear Ms. Forché read it here (begins at 3:18).
Big Book Of Poetry
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