WEBVTT

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I'd like to read a poem
from a sequence of poems

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called "Caritas".

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Caritas is the Latin origin
of our words care, charisma,

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and cherish.

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And the poems are
preceded by a quote

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from the Seneca tribe
of Native Americans

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who say, "Thank someone
for being that one.

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Walk with her to the
center of a place

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and back again
singing a little song.

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Burn something."

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Erik Satie, accused
once of formlessness,

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composed the Sonata
titled, "Composition

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in the Form of a Pear".

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When I tell you
that it would take

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more brilliance than Mozart,
more melancholy precision

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than Brahms, to compose a Sonata
in the form of your breasts

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you don't believe me.

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I lie next to your infidel
sleep all night and pain

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and lonely with my
silence pleasure.

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Your breasts in
their moonlit pallor

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invade me lightly
like minor fugues.

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I lie between your
sapling thighs,

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tongue flat on your double lips,
giving voice, giving voice.

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Opulent as a continent
in the rising

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light you sleep on indifferent
to my gushing praises.

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It is as it should be.

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Atlantis, Cyprus, Crete, the
encircled civilization serene

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and their tidal
basins dolphin-loved,

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didn't heed to the
faint the riotous praise

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of the lapping sea.