Am meisten gelesen ▸
Sara Teasdale
My soul lives in my body's house,
And you have both the house and her--
But sometimes she is less your own
Than a wild, gay adventurer;
A restless and an eager wraith,
How can I tell what she will do--
Oh, I am sure of my body's faith,
But what if my soul broke faith with you?
being a stranger
where most are strangers
body in a boat
I am here to wait
which may teach me how
I make others wait
present in absence
as a body brought to be buried
several carrying it
in some little bed
I go to fat
dine to lose me
and increase
the whole
body built of water
which hand is first hand
water built of ice
and a little quiet
an infinite room is the grave
for the finest falling body
the overthrown
and irregular body
the no body to know
how to pass
a neglected convenience
to settle in at last
a fine pear I am
the biggest sum
if I make filth and love
from that horse the body
I think myself obliged
to think myself happy
and not forget the winds that come
only to entertain us
a choir of voices buried
in one infinite chapel
a window is better than an absence
which disgraces the stone
awake I was angry
to sleep is to give way
Two needles knitting and not an eye between them.
Click click, the path turns in upon itself,
a field of knots.
This is the sound an eyetooth makes
before it breaks.
Bodies aren’t as finished as we think.
A third eye can open anywhere.
Certain navels allure
with a permanent wink.
There’s hardly a part of the body
that can’t learn vision, clock stopped
at the center of a hurricane,
all-seeing shape that plays for keeps.
It shines.
It weeps.
dead before we die
the decay sweet as nightlife
singing without sleep
in the mutinous body
give me to a body farm
a body to watch day and night
a no-body more other than a dog
better than my own vexed home
Body
of work
you make my heart race
body of evidence
weighed
wanting
body of knowledge
errata
body of the report
here comes
the red pen
governing body
hold me
body of water
hold me
up