yd tor


poems and photographs 325

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(photographs: Tom Davis)





A break, for the holiday; the next post will be on Friday, January 2.




Wednesday, December 24, 2014







the smile


There in the leafworld, green dappled gold,
among strange flowers that kiss
you sharply with their scent,
alive and real, amidst that petal

artistry, a faun. Big startled eyes.
White teeth, that bite a red flower.
He smiles amidst the foliage,
richly strange, like the first taste of wine--

and is gone. The smile remains--
his birdsong laughter, growing,
gathering, a golden kiss:
the woodland laughter still.


Rimbaud, Tête de faune, transl. Tom Davis






Tuesday, December 23, 2014







purple as...


Purple as tulips in May, mauve
into lush velvet, purple
as the stain blackberries leave
on the lips, on the hands,
the purple of ripe grapes
sunlit and warm as flesh.
Every day I will give you a color,
like a new flower in a bud vase
on your desk. Every day
I will paint you, as women
color each other with henna
on hands and on feet.


from Marge Piercy, Colors Passing Through Us






Monday, December 22, 2014









Later someone
told me they had found out
the universe is a kind of strip that
twists around and joins itself, and I believe it,
sometimes I can feel it, the way we are
pouring slowly toward a curve and around it
through something dark and soft, and we are bound to
each other.


Sharon Olds







search ~ strange shadows