[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]
This poem is, among other things, a bit of whimsy celebrating things being things. At least as much, regardless of you, or me.
On Having Misidentified A Wild Flower
A thrush, because I’d been wrong,
Burst rightly into song
In a world not vague, not lonely,
Not governed by me only
- Richard Wilbur
…
HANDSOME DROWNED MEN
I am Esteban, the handsomest drowned man in the world. In life I could draw fish out of the sea simply by calling their names and I put so much work into my land that springs burst forth from among the rocks, so that I was able to plant flowers on the cliffs.
- Enjoy this. Click 'random' to get a new post, or check the archives. Leave a comment or an email at handsomedrownedmen [at] gmail to reach me among the deepest waves, where fish are blind and divers die of nostalgia.
- Lo cierto es que la felicidad no es como dicen, que solo dura un instante y no se sabe que se tuvo sino cuando ya se acabó. La verdad es que dura mientras dure el amor, porque con amor hasta morirse es bueno
