Poetry Month: Day Nineteen

Today was summer and it was beautiful, but it wasn’t right. I woke up because of the choking humidity and wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep. But I was too warm to be comfortable and the light coming in my window was practically green, so there would be none of that. Even as my skin started to freckle and burn all day, there was a constant cool wind that said a storm was on its way, and to make sure the windows are shut. I’ve left mine open and put my Our Lady of Guadalupe candles in the window, but the birds start singing only to stop again, and there aren’t any crickets out yet. It’s all just very unsettling.

To calm my season-related anxiety, I’m reading aloud to myself the poem that gave my first blog its name. If you think you know everything there is (or everything you care to) about the Beat Poets, but haven’t read any Kenneth Rexroth, I’ll ask you to use the next five minutes or so to reconsider.

Rest. Wait. We have enough for a while.
Kiss me with your mouth
Wet and ragged, your mouth that tastes
Of my own flesh. Read to me again

—from ‘When We with Sappho’ by Kenneth Rexroth

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