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Margaret Randall, love, in English Clear filters

RomanticMargaret Randall

Your Hands a Poem of Love

While you put your hands, that, Our surface Crossing a bridge or The other way around the back way or head on, coming to it To discover the rules Written into the distance while your hands The house, filling with smoke, the angles used To talk straight, on, At last be able To name. Your hands naming the thrust and space around it, that, I would bring you bringing me Close upon it, so we will look, go through Hands and smoke
SadMargaret Randall

Two Who Don't Know They Are Joined in This Poem

I wanted to go into the sun where it was warm and could be warm inside too, your face is the same and not. You told me to the music of the gaunt men playing ball and the women walking slowly and the monkey hanging from the old tree You told me You were born with crooked legs sleeping in braces and always straight, that later you couldn't sleep any other way, the blood the pain and no climax and no climax, what do you call it you said never reaching orgasm. I thought of the blame of your parents which is the blame of society

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