Writings

It Is There

Muriel Rukeyser, from Breaking Open (1973) Yes, it is there, the city full of music, Flute music, sounds of children, voices of poets, The unknown bird in his long call.       The bells of peace. Essential peace, it sounds across the water In the long parks where the lovers are walking. Along the lake with its island and pagoda, And a boy learning to fish.       His father threads the line. Essential peace, it sounds and it stills.       Cockcrow. It is there, the human place. On what does it depend, this music, the children’s games? A long tradition of rest? Meditation? What [...]

2023-09-04T18:43:57+00:00September 4, 2023|Poetry, Writings|0 Comments

Wherever

Muriel Rukeyser, from Breaking Open 1973 Wherever we walk we will make Wherever we protest we will go planting Make poems seed grass feed a child growing build a house Whatever we stand against We will stand feeding and seeding Wherever I walk I will make

2023-09-04T17:03:27+00:00September 9, 2022|Poetry, Writings|0 Comments

It Is There

First published in Breaking Open (1973) Yes, it is there, the city full of music, Flute music, sounds of children, voices of poets, The unknown bird in his long call. The bells of peace. Essential peace, it sounds across the water in the long parks where the lovers are walking, Along the lake with its island and pagoda, And a boy learning to fish. His father threads the line. Essential peace, it sounds and it stills. Cockcrow. It is there, the human place. On what does it depend, this music, the children's games? A long tradition of rest? Meditation? What [...]

2022-08-15T12:26:28+00:00August 15, 2022|Poetry, Writings|0 Comments

Ecstacy of a Woman Detective

Published in Houdini (2002) I love using what I’ve got Love not being what I’m not— After a long time of one kind of living, And it was all right, it was really partly good, Full of one-sided things, And disturbing . . . and absorbing . . . almost Every day . . . But Then the new life came along, bringing The joy of reaching, of stretching, of being Effective— This is another place, this is another way, The ecstasy of a woman detective— And what I detect, what I really find Is your body-and-mind and your life and my [...]

2023-09-04T17:18:07+00:00February 7, 2022|Poetry, Writings|0 Comments

Yes

Published in Houdini (2002) It’s like a Tap-Dance Or a new pink Dress, A shit-naive Feeling Saying Yes. Some say Good morning Some say God bless – Some say Possibly Some say Yes. Some say Never Some say Unless It’s stupid and lovely To rush into Yes. What can it mean? It’s just like Life, One thing to You One thing to your Wife. Some go Local Some go Express Some can’t wait To answer Yes. Some complain Of strain and Stress The answer may be No for Yes. Some like Failure Some like Success Some like Yes Yes Yes Yes Yes. [...]

2022-02-04T16:34:34+00:00February 4, 2022|Poetry, Writings|0 Comments

Beer and Bacon

Published in Houdini (2002) When you see a woman riding the air Well, you see a woman playing with fire, A woman made of storm and desire And she loves the whole damn zoo. But you can be sure, whatever I do, That I need my beer and bacon too. I wake every night at 4 A.M. And I tell my dreams to the man who is there, Dreams of animals not like him— A woman who rides on fire and air Loves to dream with the whole damn zoo But I need my beer and bacon too. My dreams [...]

2022-02-04T16:12:21+00:00February 4, 2022|Poetry, Writings|0 Comments

Chains, Freedom, Keys

Published in Houdini (2002) There are chains— There is freedom— There are keys— And of these, chains are strong Freedom’s endless, keys are great And we Are the greatest of these, The greatest Of these. There are chains— There is freedom— There are keys— And of these, There are those I have seen I have heard And I know I have seen I have heard And I know— There are chains— There is freedom— There are keys-- And the greatest of these Can free the world.

2022-02-04T15:49:34+00:00February 4, 2022|Poetry, Writings|0 Comments

The Ballad of the Missing Lines

Juvenilia, published in The Collected Poems of Muriel Rukeyser (2005) Eve walked in the Garden of a Sunday morning, Sunlight was her kirtle and her book a rose— Where was she going, down the aisle of trees so primly? No one knows. Helen in her bower looked into her dressing-glass, (Although of course the mirror was not invented yet,) What did she think as she preened herself for Paris? The songs forget. Vivien was subtle by the age-old oak tree, But that Merlin the enchanter was her dupe, I doubt, What did she do when he loosed the magic bondage? [...]

2022-01-31T17:52:30+00:00January 31, 2022|Poetry, Writings|0 Comments
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