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A Response To Elizabeth Bishop
Hailing at once from my old Worcester, Mass
a maiden Elizabeth wrote so fair
a poem that struck me so deep I swear
it grabbed my soul and kicked my ass
As I once did sit on the Elm Park grass
to watch all the sights of man and nature
though none did compare in every feature
To the perfect words of this Bishop lass
For there will be a moment when the dead
long cold with open eyes will rise to grab
a hand and breath through six feet of black coal
For when your words crawled up inside my head
they slithered down to my gut with a stab
and the sonnet of blood did heal my soul
-john
I Am in Need of Music
I am in need of music that would flow
Over my fretful, feeling fingertips,
Over my bitter-tainted, trembling lips,
With melody, deep, clear, and liquid-slow.
Oh, for the healing swaying, old and low,
Of some song sung to rest the tired dead,
A song to fall like water on my head,
And over quivering limbs, dream flushed to glow!
There is a magic made by melody:
A spell of rest, and quiet breath, and cool
Heart, that sinks through fading colors deep
To the subaqueous stillness of the sea,
And floats forever in a moon-green pool,
Held in the arms of rhythm and of sleep.
-Elizabeth Bishop
