tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6688255150227967394.post3961213124646223057..comments2023-07-25T03:12:10.169-07:00Comments on The Rants and Ramblings of Locke: Beneath the FoldJeffreyLockehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02809668463831363814noreply@blogger.comBlogger1125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6688255150227967394.post-68348036620661524932009-02-10T11:31:00.000-08:002009-02-10T11:31:00.000-08:00that reminds me this poem by ee cummings: somewher...that reminds me this poem by ee cummings: <BR/><BR/>somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond<BR/>any experience,your eyes have their silence:<BR/>in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,<BR/>or which i cannot touch because they are too near<BR/><BR/>your slightest look easily will unclose me<BR/>though i have closed myself as fingers,<BR/>you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens<BR/>(touching skilfully,mysteriously)her first rose<BR/><BR/>or if your wish be to close me, i and<BR/>my life will shut very beautifully ,suddenly,<BR/>as when the heart of this flower imagines<BR/>the snow carefully everywhere descending;<BR/><BR/>nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals<BR/>the power of your intense fragility:whose texture<BR/>compels me with the color of its countries,<BR/>rendering death and forever with each breathing<BR/><BR/>(i do not know what it is about you that closes<BR/>and opens;only something in me understands<BR/>the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)<BR/>nobody,not even the rain,has such small handsKristin Michellehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/07945363751151279110noreply@blogger.com