Monday, February 14, 2011


by Carol Ann Duffy

Not a red rose or a satin heart.

I give you an onion.
It is a moon wrapped in brown paper.
It promises light
like the careful undressing of love.

It will blind you with tears
like a lover.
It will make your reflection
a wobbling photo of grief.

I am trying to be truthful.

Not a cute card or a kissogram.

I give you an onion.
Its fierce kiss will stay on your lips,
possessive and faithful
as we are,
for as long as we are.

Take it.
Its platinum loops shrink to a wedding-ring,
if you like.

Its scent will cling to your fingers,
cling to your knife.

We are having a small Valentines, a hiding Valentines day. I am sick and I am drinking boiled herbs and trying to stay awake. Onions seem appropriate for today.

Saturday, February 12, 2011

Having a Coke with You

Frank O'Hara reading Having a Coke with You.

Friday, February 11, 2011

The Gift

Union is like this:

You feel cold
So I reach for a blanket to cover
Our shivering feet.

A hunger comes into your body
So I run to my garden
And start digging potatoes.

You ask for a few words of comfort and guidance,
I quickly kneel at your side offering you
This whole book-
As a gift.

You ache with loneliness one night
So much you weep

And I say,
Here's a rope,
Tie it around me,

I will be your companion
For life.


Picture of the party David and I met at, it looks so sunny compared to now