Just Out Of Love 1998

19 Jan 2009 Leave a comment

by arlenecorwin in 1998, circling round eros, love relationships, love relationships; circling round eros Tags: , ,

 

         Just Out Of Love
Just out of love

He grabs my breast.

Just out of love

I touch his balls or dick or chest.

Just out of love there is no sex,

No heat, no passion, ecstasy,

Just passing touches,

Grabbings mild,

Biggles giggles

Childish-smiled;

Unplanned;

A frilly Wonderland.

His hand, my hand allowed a freedom

Without fear or looking forward:

No anxiety untoward: no

-I’ve a headache, dear.

-I’ve got to come.

-Too fast.

-Go slow.

-Right there.

-No here.

None of the forcing, so exhausting,

Stress producing

Taking,

Faking,

Digging into time above,

Not necessarily from love above.

When out of love I squeeze his thigh,

There’s nothing that I want.

It’s milk; it’s silk.

It makes me high – this passing by.

It is a statement made from joy.

This is a loving built on liking,

Built on leisure,

Equal to the nicest pleasure;

This is the fine, sunshine of body.

 

Just Out Of Love 98.11.28

Love Relationships; Circling Round Eros;

Arlene Corwin

 

 

Lazy Man’s Confession 1998

19 Jan 2009 Leave a comment

by arlenecorwin in 1998, a sense of the ridiculous, the processes creative thinking meditative Tags: , ,

                  Lazy Man’s Confession  (When The Dictionary’s In The Other Room)

When the word will not come to mind,

I simply form a concept-word that’s easier to find.

A compound of two words will do –

It gets the notion ‘cross to you,

Which is all that one wants

If what one wants to say is true.

(Notice I don’t say “is new”;

There’s nothing ‘new’); the mystic sleuth

Concerns itself with finding truth

To pass from self to all-the-yous

On the most golden plate at hand.

©Lazy Man’s Confession 1998

A Sense Of The Ridiculous; The Processes: Creative, Thinking, Meditative;

Arlene Corwin

 

 

Just Out Of Love 1998

19 Jan 2009 Leave a comment

by arlenecorwin in 1998, circling round eros, love relationships, love relationships; circling round eros Tags: , ,

 

      Just Out Of LoveJust out of love

He grabs my breast.

Just out of love

I touch his balls or dick or chest.

Just out of love there is no sex,

No heat, no passion, ecstasy,

Just passing touches,

Grabbings mild,

Biggles giggles

Childish-smiled;

Unplanned;

A frilly Wonderland.

His hand, my hand allowed a freedom

Without fear or looking forward:

No anxiety untoward: no

-I’ve a headache, dear.

-I’ve got to come.

-Too fast.

-Go slow.

-Right there.

-No here.

None of the forcing, so exhausting,

Stress producing

Taking,

Faking,

Digging into time above,

Not necessarily from love above.

 

When out of love I squeeze his thigh,

There’s nothing that I want.

It’s milk; it’s silk.

It makes me high – this passing by.

It is a statement made from joy.

This is a loving built on liking,

Built on leisure,

Equal to the nicest pleasure;

This is the fine, sunshine of body.

Just Out Of Love 98.11.28

Love Relationships; Circling Round Eros;

Arlene Corwin

 

It Happens Suddenly 1998

19 Jan 2009 Leave a comment

by arlenecorwin in 1998, circling round nature Tags: ,

       It Happens Suddenly

It happens suddenly. The stage:

A day, two days, a week – not more;

One hopes not more than seven days

Of listless lying in this cage –

Lying lion, padlocked door.

Dull and purposeless the phase,

A dozy wad of forceless ‘bod’;

The live physique, the moving form,

The very force that slows you up

Lets you down

And stops you in your tracks.

Which the servant, which the master?

Microbe, hormone, enzyme, gene?

Within their root harangue disaster

Stagnates, corpse-like,

“Health, ill health” the daisy game.

Inertia in its very static feels like bliss –

Even in its aimlessness:

This mystery and curse.

Sky keeps alternating.

Swedish clouds belie a sun

Which, in a fifteen minute spell,

Warms chin, the room I’m in,

A hazy dell and then I’m well.

Well enough to sense the sage

Behind the hidden goings on,

Despite this cage;

Sense the causes, look at seasons,

Guess at reasons

Spring gets sprung, the lung of nature

Gets its leaves,

Old gets young again and summer

Takes its place with grace. Sheaves

Of projects still to do:

I will spring to life anew.

It happens suddenly.

©It Happens Suddenly 98.5.7

Circling Round Nature;

Arlene Corwin

 

 

 

 

 

In A Sea Of Indefinite Tonality 1998

19 Jan 2009 Leave a comment

by arlenecorwin in the processes creative thinking meditative, vaguely about music Tags: , ,

 

      In A Sea Of Indefinite Tonality

When I write I choose the ‘I’

To work out questions.

By the by,

The process opens up to hope,

Enabling, ennobling,

Rising like a little bird,

A fledgling bird

With soft-down hops that grow in scope

And magnitude. It improvises

Till the flight is executed,

Taken up above the rooftops –

Earthiness conjoined to sky,

Combined to ply

The answer out of

All the early wasted movement.

©

 

In A Sea Of Indefinite Tonality 98.4.8The Processes: Creative, Thinking, Meditative; Vaguely About Music;

Arlene Corwin

 

 

* Title quote from Simon Rattle

I’m Looking At A Painted Egg 1998

19 Jan 2009 Leave a comment

by arlenecorwin in 1998, to the child mystic Tags: ,

       I’m Looking At A Painted Egg

I’m looking at a painted egg;

A Chinese lacquered painted egg.

Now, if the universe is egg,

(Or, if the One is shaped like egg,)

Since surely we have eggs around

And in us, forming lives and life

Inside and bursting out big-bang)

Then dainty painted

Egg is sainted.

On the shell a light pink lotus;

Lustrous atlas of the conscience –

What we should and should not be:

Logogram of purity.

There beside sits lacquered Buddha,

Smiling in shellacky Buddha.

To be Buddha if we could’a

Is the song that Buddha sang,

The gong he rang:

Two small symbols out of time;

Parent-rungs on which to hang,

And for the favored – rungs to climb.

I’m looking at the painted, sainted,

Utterly attained, untainted

Prime.

©

 

I’m Looking At A Painted Egg 98.6.18

If I Became A Cello Bow 1998

19 Jan 2009 Leave a comment

by arlenecorwin in 1998, to the child mystic, vaguely about music Tags: , ,

       If I Became A Cello Bow 

If I became a cello bow

It still would be me anyhow.

If I woke up a year from now,

There would be me inside the brow:

A cow, a sow, a doe, a crow –

A self could never stop the flow,

Give up the special, endless glow

That makes it go

From age to age and know

Just who

It is.

© 

 

 

If I Became A Cello Bow 98.7.9

Idiosyncratic, Or Just Plain Inept? #2 1998

19 Jan 2009 Leave a comment

by arlenecorwin in 1998, a sense of the ridiculous, the processes creative thinking meditative Tags: , ,

 

      Idiosyncratic, Or Just Plain Inept?#2

 

It’s either idiosyncratic

Or just plain inept,

And verse

That’s personal

May make it worse.

 

Though terse,

It may be odd and bad.

The message may

Be tedious:

A sausage

Stuffed with corn and grease –

A piece

Of well-intentioned pap:

Crap.

 

Who can know?

Not I,

Nor you –

Oh, pooh!

Cry, lie or die;

Dream, scream or squirm

To touch the skies –

There is no choice.

The idiosyncratic voice

That can’t keep still

Has no free will

And no one can say otherwise.

©

 

Idiosyncratic Or Just Plain Inept? 98.12.3The Processes: Creative, Thinking, Meditative; A Sense Of The Ridiculous;

Arlene Corwin

 

Idiosyncratic, Or Just Plain Inept? #1 1998

19 Jan 2009 Leave a comment

by arlenecorwin in 1998, a sense of the ridiculous, the processes creative thinking meditative Tags: , ,

 

      Idiosyncratic, Or Just Plain Inept? #1

 

It’s either idio-

syncratic

Or just plain inept,

And verse

That’s pers-

onal

May make it worse.

Though terse,

It may be odd

And bad,

Or message may

Be tedious:

A sausage stuffed with corn and grease –

A piece

Of well-intentioned pap:

Crap.

Who can know?

Not I,

Nor you –

Oh, pooh!

Cry

Or die;

Dream,

Scream

Or squirm to touch

The skies –

There is no choice.

The idiosyncratic voice

That can’t keep still

Has no free will

And no one can say otherwise.

©

 

Idiosyncratic Or Just Plain Inept? 98.12.3A Sense Of The Ridiculous; The Processes: Creative, Thinking, Meditative

Arlene Corwin

 

I Wish I Didn’t Need To Wish 1998

19 Jan 2009 Leave a comment

by arlenecorwin in 1998, to the child mystic Tags: ,

       I Wish I Didn’t Need To Wish

I wish I didn’t need to wish;

Wish I didn’t want the proof

Whose stuff consists of cosmic fluff

Impossible to prove.

The days when everything I do

Rings true and bio-cogwheels mesh

Are days when I don’t need to wish.

But wish is there –

And then it’s prayer.

©

 

I Wish I Didn’t Need To Wish 98.10.18

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