"Touch Me" by Stanley Kunitz The great old master reads one of his last love poems. The simple fact that he could show such passion so late in life makes me feel all buttery and soft. "Desire, desire, desire..."
Here's your place to let me have it, put it where the sun don't shine or damn me with faint praise.
What do you think of Pape's Pocket Papers so far? What suggestions would you make?
Go ahead... I can take it!
Comments
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oh god how guilty do I feel? I am a woman I am supposed to clean, I hate to clean and to read in poem or otherwise that someone does this in detail once a month ( thought with anguish and emphasis) I am ashamed and diminished.
This poem was written a long time ago, when I was younger and more energetic. "Once a month" no longer holds true. More like once every six months... However, the part about "belly to the floor, I understand where I live" still holds true.
oh god how guilty do I feel? I am a woman I am supposed to clean, I hate to clean and to read in poem or otherwise that someone does this in detail once a month ( thought with anguish and emphasis) I am ashamed and diminished.
Posted by: judy kepes | 04/28/2010 at 03:22 PM
This poem was written a long time ago, when I was younger and more energetic. "Once a month" no longer holds true. More like once every six months... However, the part about "belly to the floor, I understand where I live" still holds true.
Posted by: glenn | 04/29/2010 at 08:38 AM