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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=476753" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Love Goes Everywhere</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Love goes everywhere, a blue nightwind <br>blowing the stars off the sills of far horizons, <br>making breasts of the heaving waves, <br>corrugated ripples, undulant mirrors<br>on the snake-scrawl skin of the shuddering lake, <br>kicking through the leaves of the heart<br>still not satisfied with its last draft of autumn, <br>arsenic on the tongues of the green dancers in the fire, <br>and twilights dripping like paint from the lips of vandalized roses.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Seabirds veer into its flesh like drunk swords <br>and there are cherries in its teeth that bleed, <br>and huge iron bells that come down like the pillars of dinosaurs<br>walking their funerals through a nuclear winter too late, <br>and doors off their hinges with their mouths gaping<br>at the swallows that come and go trying to paste<br>their clay and thread, a thatch of matted feathers <br>into a homely heart, a begging bowl of naked birds.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And the vases of love that are curved like the hips of a woman<br>Are as often, the fumaroles of spewing volcanoes, <br>bouquets of smoke and meteors, igneous ejaculations <br>refleshing themselves in sulphurous ores of glowing magma, <br>and the candles standing naked like studio models <br>in the ebb-tide sheets of their languid wax, and wine<br>on the palette of the sunset matador <br>who was gored on the horns of the moon, <br>starfish in the morning death carts of creaking Calcutta.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Up here on the wooden fire-escape, a look-out above<br>the begging crowns of the trees, and a solitary willow <br>easier than lips, waiting to rinse her hair in the rain <br>as if she had sisters, unravelled scars of snared lightning<br>off in the distance, the shock of electric bats<br>in the roseate boudoirs of the clouds, and the moon, <br>hauling its boat up the opposite bank of the Milky Way<br>to ferry its ghosts across the last abyss before morning, <br>and the stars ablaze in the flammable radiance of your eyes, <br>and the fire-iris in the blue of mine, I think of you, us, <br>and the miles between us in our continental bed <br>with its coverlet of cities, trains, highways, forests, <br>and the stains of deep-eyed lakes, plains and mountains, <br>the landscape of your body under sheets of autumn grain, <br>gathering prairie storms for a pillow, tornadoes for springs, <br>and our passion the conflagration of tens of thousands of acres, <br>the slipping of faults and cracks, the chafing of terraform plates<br>that shake the earth with apocalyptic ecstasy <br>and multiple aftershocks, love at the epicenter, <br>and the turmoil of crazy winds that sigh us away like grass, <br>and I marvel that in the tiniest house of time, <br>a breath within a breath, a berry in the sun, <br>as far as the silence away from each other, <br>we should live like a thriving planet, <br>each in the bridal coasts of the other’s arms.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And I want to nudge you with secrets, <br>whisper eels into your oyster ears, <br>gather up the mushrooms of your lips, <br>the soft moss of your sex <br>and wheel higher than a hawk <br>on a stairwell of semen and honey<br>then down the dizzy bannisters of your helical body<br>into the moist cellars of your rarest wines, <br>where the ghosts mingle in the fluids of life, <br>shapes of the watershed, longing for mangers.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And then I remember the rain in a likeness of you, <br>soft cameos of waterlilies that glow <br>like islands among black swans, <br>and the violet hyacinths that reed <br>the oboes of the dragonflies, <br>and the wild mink of stolen caresses <br>that nip your fingertips with the fangs of the moon, <br>and the terrible distances between your toes and your eyelids<br>a man walking on his lips <br>would take years to caress<br>and how many rivers I’d have to cross <br>before I came to the jewel in the root, <br>the fire-well and seed-lake of your tears.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And then the rain comes down harder, <br>heavy drops of ripe sorrow driving me back to myself, <br>smearing my clothes over my skin like wet, black leaves<br>and I sit for an hour, an ark on a mountain top in the legends of the flood, <br>all my dark abundance released on the bestial floor of the earth, <br>and an emptiness closer than death<br>bleeds me out into a vast space under a black sun<br>where the shadows of time are scattered like ashes <br>and all the trees in a dream are palatial pillars of salt<br>because I think of you laughing like a lamp in the rain, <br>your hair streaming skirts of beaded water<br>as both of us run into the same heart for shelter <br>and I find a clean towel to tamp your river face<br>and the cheeks and eyelids of the blossoms that fall upon it<br>and just when I’m done and go to give you a kiss, you’re gone<br>and there’s only these hot, glass blisters of grief to live on and on and on<br>believing in a day, a month, an era, a year, a moment ago<br>when I wake up in a doorway of bone, and you, in the flesh, appear.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Patrick+White">Patrick White</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=476753" data-title="Love Goes Everywhere de Patrick White" data-description="Love goes everywhere, a blue nightwind 
blowing the stars off the sills of far horizons, 
making breasts of the heaving waves, 
corrugated ripples, undulant mirrors
on the snake-scrawl skin of the shuddering lake, 
kicking through the leaves of th..."></div>
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