JULIET: Gallop apace, you fiery-footed steeds, Towards Phoebus' lodging; such a wagoner As Phaeton would whip you to the west And bring in cloudy night immediately. Spread thy close curtain, love-performing night, That runaways' eyes may wink, and Romeo Leap to these arms, untalk'd of and unseen. Lovers can see to do their amorous rites By their own beauties: or, if love be blind, It best agrees with night.--Come, civil night, Thou sober-suited matron, all in black, And learn me how to lose a winning match, Play'd for a pair of stainless maidenhoods: Hood my unmann'd blood, bating in my cheeks, With thy black mantle; till strange love, grown bold, Think true love acted simple modesty. Come, night;--come, Romeo;--come, thou day in night; For thou wilt lie upon the wings of night Whiter than snow upon a raven's back. Come, gentle night; come, loving, black-brow'd night, Give me my Romeo; and, when he shall die, Take him and cut him out in little stars, And he will make the face of heaven so fine, That all the world will be in love with night, And pay no worship to the garish sun.
Wm. Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet, Act III, Scene 2 Photograph by Elia Cherici
Horse. There was a horse, and a tall girl also. I want to say one blue eye, one green, but maybe that was the horse? He broke her heart--the poet, that is, broke the girl's heart, not the horse's. I think. It all comes in sepia flashes, as though I'm the one writing it.
A rusted car is parked and stuck armpit-high in the meadow; abandoned or occupied I can't tell. Blonde grass; a sheepish kiss in porchlight before she creeps in after curfew.
photograph by Rico Moran. Does anyone have any idea what this poem is? I'm starting to believe I dreamt it, but my dreams are never this well-composed or meaningful.
White moths have crept through the cracks in the window screens and now they trace dizzy spirals over my snowdrift comforter. Up to the lights in the high ceiling, down again, dazed, disoriented, more in love than ever with what they believe is the moon.
We named an entire forest of treetops, Their heads bursting into life, then Fading out fast like the faces Of movie stars. Layered, stacked, three Skies’ worth of foliage, painted In the disappearing ink of gunpowder and flame. We saw a shower of dogwoods, petals Popping into bloom. You pointed at the branches Of the heavenly apple tree.
And every so often, Like a fast-repeating New Year’s Eve Or the rebirth of the Buddha-- The trailing golden arms Of the God-sized weeping willow, The same revelation every time.