Posted: June 1, 2008 in Uncategorized

I am not, in general, a great lover of poetry. Or, rather, I only love the work of a very few poets; H.D., Eliot, and oddly ee cummings. I am working to be broader, more accepting. It’s slow work, though, having come to demand perfection and bite from a poem before I’ll commit to it.

That said, my favorite poet is Hafez, the Islamic poet whose work is more in the Sufi style. Of all his works, this is my favorite:

and I have become
like two giant fat people living
in a tiny

keep bumping into
each other
and laughing.

Peace and all good things,


  1. Mike Mullen says:


    here’s a poem to bite into by Gerard Manley Hopkins. Also worth reading is his poem God’s Grandeur. Courtesy of Bartleby.com.

    Gerard Manley Hopkins (1844–89). Poems. 1918.

    31. Spring and Fall

    to a young child

    MÁRGARÉT, áre you gríeving
    Over Goldengrove unleaving?
    Leáves, líke the things of man, you
    With your fresh thoughts care for, can you?
    Áh! ás the heart grows older 5
    It will come to such sights colder
    By and by, nor spare a sigh
    Though worlds of wanwood leafmeal lie;
    And yet you wíll weep and know why.
    Now no matter, child, the name: 10
    Sórrow’s spríngs áre the same.
    Nor mouth had, no nor mind, expressed
    What heart heard of, ghost guessed:
    It ís the blight man was born for,
    It is Margaret you mourn for. 15

  2. inktarsia says:

    she has become
    like two lovely ears stopped
    with a tiny
    incomprehensible and entirely misguided notion of excellent rockin’ jam.

    keep cymballing
    each other
    and laughing.

  3. sarahemc2 says:

    Sherry, I am coming to your house and taking over your iPod. I am begging your husband not to let you expose your poor sons to your musical taste. I am whispering the lyrics to “Famous Blue Raincoat” into your ear while you sleep, and humming “My Rollercoaster” until the tune is stuck in your head.

    It’s time for an intervention.

  4. inktarsia says:

    It’s 4 in the morning (hear my voice cracking), and deep in the desert,
    I am listening to Ottmar Liebert and Roxette. Or Molly Ivins. My husband is playing REM and pre-Christie Billy Joel. OK I said Ottmar just to torture you. Here’s more pain: Harry Connick. Mary Chapin Carpenter. Anita Baker. Kathleen Battle. Alicia DeLarrocha. Dotsero. Leonard cannot save you now.

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