W. S. Merwin

  • Jun. 6th, 2014 at 12:50 AM
beth_shulman: (stock: open book rose)
Late Spring

Coming into the high room again after years
after oceans and shadows of hills and the sounds
after losses and feet on stairs

after looking and mistakes and forgetting
turning there thinking to find
no one except those I knew
finally I saw you
sitting in white
already waiting

you of whom I had heard
with my own ears since the beginning
for whom more than once
I have opened the door
believing you were not far

W. S. Merwin

  • Jul. 30th, 2012 at 11:59 PM
beth_shulman: (Default)
What the eye sees is a dream of sight
what it wakes to
is a dream of sight

and in the dream
for every real lock
there is only one real key
and it’s some other dream
now invisible

it’s the key to the one real door
it opens the the water and the sky both at once
it’s already in the downward river
with my hand on it
my real hand

and I am saying to the hand
turn

open the river

To the hand

W. S. Merwin

  • May. 13th, 2012 at 8:52 PM
beth_shulman: (Default)
Losing a Language

A breath leaves the sentences and does not come back
yet the old still remember something that they could say

but they know now that such things are no longer believed
and the young have fewer words

many of the things the words were about
no longer exist

the noun for standing in mist by a haunted tree )

W. S. Merwin

  • Oct. 19th, 2011 at 1:34 PM
beth_shulman: (Default)
Your absence has gone through me
Like thread through a needle.
Everything I do is stitched with its color.

(Separation)

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