O.P.P. #6 — William’s pleasures…

Day 6 of National Poetry Month.

And we’re missing things….

One of the butterflies



by W. S. Merwin

The trouble with pleasure is the timing
it can overtake me without warning
and be gone before I know it is here
it can stand facing me unrecognized
while I am remembering somewhere else
in another age or someone not seen
for years and never to be seen again
in this world and it seems that I cherish
only now a joy I was not aware of
when it was here although it remains
out of reach and will not be caught or named
or called back and if I could make it stay
as I want to it would turn into pain














The Ecstasy of Autumn

“To say anything—the mere effort alone—is a form of abandonment, an act of distortion. We can’t pin the world down in words, but there’s incredible pleasure in attempting to chart the slippage.”

—Joseph Massey

 

we slip

from being to saying

there is pleasure

in the tearing away

abandoning the seen

for the said

it’s the tension

between the two

between the too

many things