Love Is All-Seeing | Mónika Tóth

I shun father and mother and wife and brother, when my genius calls me. I would write on the lintels of the door-post, Whim. I hope it is somewhat better than whim at last, but we cannot spend the day in explanation. Expect me not to show cause why I seek or why I exclude company….

Go to Source Author: Poetry Foundation

April   This year April will be yellow and bright, with the usual UFOs appearing in the heavens to those who can spot them. Chaucer and Eliot pop their heads up to let us know how sweet or cruel the rest of the season will be. Memories of girls named April spring back to life. …

Many who had hiked through Canadian wilderness [ A century ago ] Took notice of a bird in flight A rare one the Ojibwa called Washa-quon-asin–He who flies by night At once: a hunter, a guide, a trapper A living made from the furs in his sight A rare one the Ojibwa called Washa-quon-asin–He who…

leaves paper the sky; spreading hands shielding the blaze of a sultry day from the tinder box crumble threading our journey through the trees as pages turning diary like to once before when youth’s lantern faces gleaming we shone with song more deliciously ardent than the apple buds’ danced imaginings. the circle full, the trunks…

When I was a child, back in the 60’s, there were these ads in the back of comic books for Xray glasses that could see through clothes. One day in second grade, Tommy Craven, who sat next to me, came to school with a pair and began ogling the girls. “I see your underwear!” he…