When first we faced, and touching showed
How well we knew the early moves,
Behind the moonlight and the frost,
The excitement and the gratitude,
There stood how much our meeting owed
To other meetings, other loves.
The decades of a different life
That opened past your inch-close eyes
Belonged to others, lavished, lost;
Nor could I hold you hard enough
To call my years of hunger-strife
Back for your mouth to colonise.
Admitted: and the pain is real.
But when did love not try to change
The world back to itself—no cost,
No past, no people else at all—
Only what meeting made us feel,
So new, and gentle-sharp, and strange?
Philip Larkin, When First We Faced
hot brushy country
the late autumn,
I saw a hawk
crucified on a
I guess as a kind
to other hawks,
saying from the pages
of a leading women’s
but burn all the maps
to your body.
I’m not here
of my own choosing.”
Richard Brautigan, The Double-Bed Dream Gallows
What do you think is your sexiest feature? - Anonymous
complete emotional unavailability.