THERE was a small boy of Quebec,
Who was buried in snow to his neck;
When they said. "Are you friz?"
He replied, "Yes, I is—
But we don't call this cold in Quebec."
1 Our brains ache, in the merciless iced east winds that knife us ...
2 Wearied we keep awake because the night is silent ...
3 Low drooping flares confuse our memory of the salient ...
4 Worried by silence, sentries whisper, curious, nervous,
5 But nothing happens.
6 Watching, we hear the mad gusts tugging on the wire.
7 Like twitching agonies of men among its brambles.
Who, if I cried out, would hear me among the angels'
hierarchies? and even if one of them suddenly
pressed me against his heart, I would perish
in the embrace of his stronger existence.
For beauty is nothing but the beginning of terror
which we are barely able to endure and are awed
because it serenely disdains to annihilate us.
Each single angel is terrifying.
And so I force myself, swallow and hold back
the surging call of my dark sobbing.
A toy-maker made a toy wife and a toy child.
He made a toy house and some toy years.
He made a getting-old toy, and he made a dying
The toy-maker made a toy heaven and a toy god.
But, best of all, he liked making toy shit.
I asked the mayor of Gary about the 12-hour day and the 7-day week.
And the mayor of Gary answered more workmen steal time on the job in Gary than any other place in the United States.
"Go into the plants and you will see men sitting around doing nothing--machinery does everything," said the mayor of Gary when I asked him about the 12-hour day and the 7-day week.
And he wore cool cream pants, the Mayor of Gary, and white shoes, and a barber had fixed him up with a shampoo and a shave and he was east and imperturbable though the government weather bureau thermometer said 96 and children were soaking their heads at bubbling fountains on the street corners.
And I said good-bye to the Mayor of Gary and I went out from the city hall and turned the corner into Broadway.
And I saw workmen wearing leather shoes scruffed with fire and cinders, and pitted with little holes from running molten steel,
And some had bunches of specialized muscles around their shoulder blades hard as pig iron, muscles of their forearms were sheet steel and they looked to me like men who had been somewhere.
In a corner there
I see your memory,
A child who could neither fight nor flee,
Hiding from reality
In the circle of your arms
Do you find safety?
Wishing the world around would disappear,
"I'm only safe when it's just me"
sitting on a chair
waiting for love to return
when the school bells ring
the birds are singing
but purple teddy is blue
the young days of spring
the clock keeps ticking
as saffron day grows older
You are my shadow, my girl,
For me you are like a string of pearl.
Your twinkling eyes brighten my day,
Your bubbly persona will always stay.
Fond of your love and care,
Motherhood requires hard work,
Motherhood is the biggest gamble in the world.
Having kids is the great responsibility,
Making them kind, is the real beauty.
Being mother, you have to think twice,
I got a rocking horse for my birthday;
And my new horse is magic and special!
When we're alone, it rocks me far away;
But my colt is very gentle and careful.
My magic horse, flies me to fun places.
One night, it rocked me off to the moon!
We've seen the world and so many faces,
And we'll both be traveling again soon.