Tag Archives: what’s love got to do with it?

But he could not stretch her spey, her spey, he could not stretch her spey

Posted on by
Reply

A slightly late International Women’s Day post – lest we forget that we are never the first generation of women to resist, to make our resistance public, and to celebrate it. This has been recorded by many of my favorite singers – Alix Dobkin, Peggy Seeger, and Karan Casey, whose version you can hear here.

Now go resist! And then sing about it!

Eppie Morrie

(Trad Arr. Karan Casey/John Doyle)

Four-and-twenty Highland men
Came from the Carron side
To steal away Eppie Morrie
Cause she wouldn’t be a bride, a bride
She wouldn’t be a bride

Then out it’s came her mother then
It was a moonlit night
She couldn’t see her daughter
For the moon it shone so bright, so bright
The moon it shone so bright

They’ve taken Eppie Morrie
And a horse they’ve bound her on
And they’re away to Carron side
As fast as horse could gang, could gang
As fast as horse could gang

And Willie’s taken his pistol out
And put it to the minister’s breast
O marry me, marry me, minister
Or else I’ll be your priest, your priest
Or else I’ll be your priest

Haud away from me, Willie
Haud away from me
There’s not a man in all Strathdon
Shall wedded be by me, by me
Shall wedded be by me

Then mass was sung and bells were rung
And they’re away to bed
And Willie and Eppie Morrie
In one bed they were laid, were laid
In one bed they were laid

He’s taken the shirt from off his back
And kicked away his shoes
And thrown away the chamber key
And naked he lay down, lay down
And naked he lay down

He’s kissed her on the lily breast
And held her shoulders twa
But aye she gat and aye she spat
And turned to the wa’, the wa’
And turned to the wa’

They wrestled there all through the night
Before the break of day
But aye she gat and aye she spat
But he could not stretch her spey,
He could not stretch her spey

Haud away from me, Willie,
Haud away from me
There’s not a man in all Strathdon
Shall wedded be by me, by me
Shall wedded be by me

Then early in the morning
Before the light of day
In came the maid of Scallater
In gown and shirt alone, alone
In a gown and shirt alone

Get up, get up, young woman
And take a drink with me
You might have called me maiden
For I’m as whole as thee, as thee
For I’m as whole as thee.

Then in there came young Breadalbane
With a pistol on his side
O, come away, Eppie Morrie
And I’ll make you my bride, my bride
And l’ll make you my bride

Go get to me a horse, Willie
Get it like a man
And send me back to my mother
A maiden as I came, I came
A maiden as I came

Haud away from me, Willie
Haud away from me
There’s not a man in all Strathdon
Shall wedded be by me, by me
Shall wedded be with me

Haud away from me, Willie
Haud away from me
There’s not a man in all Strathdon
Shall wedded be by me, by me
Shall wedded be by me

The first time,

Posted on by
Reply

To hear me reading a slightly different version of this poem at the Drew 2010 Winter Residency, click

The first time,

in the Rittenhouse Radisson, was to
be wicked hot, me and her and her girl-
friend who even then was coughing up blood
and hiding it. I kissed the one and then
the other, the first time, when our worry was
jealousy. The first time she hid her blood-
stained panties in tangled sheets for the first
time. Each hand deep in a competing cunt,
she howled and whooped, the first time, three days
after the report said melanoma.
We were innocent, the first time, with more
hands than Kali but not enough to shield
liver and lungs, spleen and spine. The first time
we had a great time, time we would not have.

The first time

Posted on by
Reply

I read this at the final student reading at my third Drew residency. It felt so good to speak it, to inhabit it, that I know the poem is done, after many many drafts and re-visions.

The first time,

in the Rittenhouse Radisson, was to
be crazy hot, me and her and her girl-
friend who even then was hiding the blood
she coughed up. I kissed one and then the other,
the first time, when we still worried about
jealousy. The first time she hid her blood-
stained panties in the tangled sheets for the
first time. She howled and whooped, each hand deep in
a competing cunt, the first time, three days
after the report said melanoma.
We were innocent, the first time. We had
more hands than Kali but not enough to
shield liver and lungs and spine. The first time
we had a great time, time we would not have.

Feeling Fucked Up

Posted on by
Reply

Feeling Fucked Up
Etheridge Knight

Lord she’s gone done left me done packed / up and split
and I with no way to make her
come back and everywhere the world is bare
bright bone white crystal sand glistens
dope death dead dying and jiving drove
her away made her take her laughter and her smiles
and her softness and her midnight sighs—

Fuck Coltrane and music and clouds drifting in the sky
fuck the sea and trees and the sky and birds
and alligators and all the animals that roam the earth
fuck marx and mao fuck fidel and nkrumah and
democracy and communism fuck smack and pot
and red ripe tomatoes fuck joseph fuck mary fuck
god jesus and all the disciples fuck fanon nixon
and malcolm fuck the revolution fuck freedom fuck
the whole muthafucking thing
all i want now is my woman back
so my soul can sing

Lucinda Lyric Interlude

Posted on by
Reply

Because this song has gotten me through some rough spots in the past. Because it just popped up on Ipod shuffle. Because it is a great example of syntax and line being simultaneous. Because, if you are someone who deserves it, this song kicks your ass.

“Changed the Locks”
Lucinda Williams

I changed the lock on my front door so you can’t see me anymore
And you can’t come inside my house, and you can’t lie down on my couch
I changed the lock on my front door

I changed the number on my phone so you can’t call me up at home
And you can’t say those things to me that make me fall down on my knees
I changed the number on my phone

I changed the kind of car I drive so you can’t see me when I go by
And you can’t chase me up the street, and you can’t knock me off of my feet
I changed the kind of car I drive

I changed the kind of clothes I wear so you can’t see me anywhere
And you can’t spot me in a crowd, and you can’t call my name out loud
I changed the kind of clothes I wear

I changed the tracks underneath the train so you can’t find me again
And you can’t trace my path, and you can’t hear my laugh
I changed the tracks underneath the train

I changed the name of this town so you can’t follow me down
And you can’t touch me like before, and you can’t make me want you more
I changed the name of this town

I changed the lock on my front door, I changed the number on my phone
I changed the kind of car I drive, I changed the kind of clothes I wear

I changed the tracks underneath the train, I changed the name of this town
I changed the name of this town
I changed the name of this town

Ciscernos “You Like to Give and…”

Posted on by
Reply

one of my sister-poets was reading a collection of erotic/love poems by Sandra Ciscernos. I opened it and found this. And another I really loved that was just too long to copy out by hand. I gotta go buy the book now to have it for myself. The Spanish words should have accent marks I’ve not yet learned enough HTML to create. Soon, really.

You Like to Give and Watch Me My Pleasure
Sandra Ciscernos

You like to give and watch me my
pleasure. Machete me in two.
Take for the taking what is yours.
This is how you like to have me.

I’m as naked as a field of cane,
as alone as all of Cuba
before you.

You could descend like rain
destroy like fire
if you chose to.

If you chose to,

I could rise like hurracan.
I could erupt as sudden as
a coup d’etat of trumpets,
the sleepless eye of ocean,
a sky of black urracas.
If I chose to.

I don’t choose to.
I let myself be taken.

The power is my gift to you.

Here

Posted on by
Reply 
                           Here
                    Chana Bloch

                      Anything
                even the black
         satin road where it catches
       the streaked oils of stoplights
          as I drive home alone
             from the hospital
        rain pocking the windshield
       tires slicing the pooled water
       to a spume taller than the car.
      Even that patch where the road
     fell in, rutted as a face, even that
             cries out: Look at me
            don’t turn away, admit
            the ravage is beautiful.
       The world insists: I was here
          before you and your pain,
                  I am here and I
          will outlast you. Yes, says
             the mind stroking itself
                   into life again
                 as a body, taking
                    what comfort
                        it can.

from Mrs. Dumpty, an astounding collection of poems about the end of Bloch’s marriage, about how love is born and how it dies.

Because the Bee may blameless hum

Posted on by
Reply

869
Emily Dickinson

Because the Bee may blameless hum
For Thee a Bee do I become
List even unto Me.

Because the Flowers unafraid
May lift a look on thine, a Maid
Alway a Flower would be.

Nor Robins, Robins need not hide
When Thou upon their Crypts intrude
So Wings bestow on Me
Or Petals, or a Dower of Buzz
That Bee to ride, or Flower of Furze
I that way worship Thee.

New work up – Psalms and Piyyutim

Posted on by
Reply

I’m starting to upload a new section of work – more psalms about assorted subjects from my daily life, and piyyutim, or prayer poems. The latter are, so far, a genre I’m calling “collages,” poems created by weaving together words from many different poets to create one piece that is a kind of dialogue about a topic between writers of very different eras and languages. I have two of these so far, one with ocean images, and one with river images (I’m a Pisces, whaddya want from me??). I plan to have more over the next few months.

For reasons unknown, I can’t get wordpress to make a new tab for this section at the top of my home page, so you can find it here:Psalms and Piyyutim