1159. Yes - Muriel Rukeyser

It's like a tap-dance

Or a new pink dress,

A shit-naive feeling

Saying yes.

Some say Good morning

Some say God bless

Some say Possibly

Some say yes.

Some say Never

Some say Unless

It's stupid and lovely

To rush into Yes.

What can it mean?

It's just like life,

One thing to you

One thing to your wife.

Some go local

Some go express

Some can't wait

To answer yes.

Some complain

Of strain and stress

The answer may be

No for Yes.

Some like failure

Some like success

Some like Yes Yes

Yes Yes Yes.

Open your eyes

Dream but don't guess.

Your biggest surprise

Come after Yes.

1158. With Kit, Age 7, At The Beach - William Stafford

We would climb the highest dune,

from there to gaze and come down:

the ocean was performing;

we contributed our climb.

Waves leapfrogged and came

straight out of the storm.

What should our gaze mean?

Kit waited for me to decide.

Standing on such a hill,

what would you tell your child?

That was an absolute vista.

Those waves raced far, and cold.

“How far could you swim Daddy

in such a storm?”

“As far as was needed,” I said,

and as I talked I swam. 

1157. A Hardware Store As Proof of the Existence of God - Nancy Willard

I praise the brightness of hammers pointing east

like the steel woodpeckers of the future, 

and dozens of hinges opening brass wings,

and six new rakes shyly fanning their toes,

and bins of hooks glittering into bees,

and a rack of wrenches like the long bones of horses,

and mailboxes sowing rows of silver chapels,

and a company of plungers waiting for God

to claim their thin legs in their big shoes

and put them on and walk away laughing.

In a world not perfect but not bad either

let there be glue, glaze, gum, and grabs,

caulk also, and hooks, shackles, cables, and slips, 

and signs so spare a child many read them,

Men, Women, In, Out, No Parking, Beware The Dog.

In the right hands, they can work wonders

1156. The Birds Have Vanished - Li Po

 Translated from the Chinese by Sam Hamill

The birds have vanished

and now the last cloud drains away

We sit together, the mountain and me

until only the mountain remains.

1155. A Sleepless Night - Philip Levine

April, and the last of the plum blossoms

scatters on the black grass

before dawn. The sycamore, the lime,

the struck pine inhale

and first pale hints of sky. The iron day,

I think, yet it will come

dazzling, the light

rise from the belly of leaves and pour

burning from the cups

of poppies. The mockingbird squawks

from his perch, fidgets,

and settles back. The snail, awake

for good trembles from his shell

and sets sail for China. My hand dances

in the memory of a million vanished stars.

A man has every place to lay his head

1154. The Way To The Temple - Wang Wei (701-761)

Translated by Sam Hamill

Searching for Gathered Fragrance Temple:

miles of mountains rise into clouds,

ancient trees darken the narrow trail.

Where is that mountain temple bell?

Snow melt crashes down on boulders,

the sun grows cold in the pines before

it drowns in the lake. Keep your karma

in good working order: many dragons lie in wait.

1153. In The Very Earliest Time - Eskimo

In the very earliest time,

when both people and animals lived on earth.

a person could become an animal if he wanted to

and an animal could become a human being.

Sometimes they were people

and sometimes animals

and there was no difference.

All spoke the same language.

That was the time when words were like magic.

The human mind had mysterious powers.

A word spoken by chance

might have strange consequences.

It would suddenly come alive

and what people wanted to happen could happen—

all you had to do was say it.

Nobody can explain this:

That’s the way it was

1152. Sometimes - David Whyte

Sometimes

if you move carefully

through the forest,

breathing

like the ones 

in the old stories,

who could cross

a shimmering bed of leaves

without a sound,

you come

to a place 

whose only task

is to trouble you

with tiny

but frightening requests,

conceived out of nowhere

but in this place

beginning to lead everywhere.

Requests to stop what

you are doing right now,

and

to stop what you

are becoming

while you do it,

questions

that can make

or unmake

a life,

questions

that have patiently 

waited for you,

questions

that have no right

to go away. 

1151. Writing A Resume - Wislawa Szymborska

Translated from the Polish by Stanislaw Baranczak and Clare Cavanagh

What’s needs to be done?

Fill out the application

and enclose the resume

Regardless of the length of life

a resume is best kept short.

Concise, well-chosen facts are de rigueur.

Landscapes are replaced by addresses, 

shaky memories give way to unshakable dates.

Of all your loves, mention only marriage:

of all your children, only those who were born.

Who knows you matters more than whom you know.

Trips only if taken abroad.

Memberships in what but without why.

Honors, but not how they were earned. 

Write as if you’d never talked to yourself

and always kept yourself at arm’s length.

Pass over in silence your dogs, cats, birds,

dusty keepsakes, friends, and dreams.

Price, not worth,

and title, not what’s inside.

His shoe size, not where he’s off to,

that one you pass off as yourself.

In addition, a photograph with one ear showing

What matters is its shape, not what it hears.

What is there to hear, anyway?

The clatter of paper shredders.

1150. On Living (Part 1) - Nazim Hikmet

Translated from the Turkish by Randy Blasing and Mutlu Konuk

Living is no laughing matter:

you must live with great seriousness a squirrel, for example—

   I mean without looking for something beyond and above living,

       I mean living must be your whole occupation.

Living is no laughing matter: you must take it seriously,

        so much so and to such a degree

that, for example, your hands tied behind your back,

your back to the wall, or else in a laboratory

in your white coat and safety glasses, you can die for people—

even for people whose faces you’ve never seen,

even though you know living

is the most real, the most beautiful thing.

I mean, you must take living so seriously

 that even at seventy, for example, you’ll plant olive trees—

 and  not for your children, either, but because although 

         you fear death you don’t believe it,

         because living, I mean, weighs heavier.