even my soul is wet.

did you know that this month is national poetry month?

the library at my school reminded me with this poster. 

fact: i love watercolors.

i want to write. in color and sideways on paper without lines. in black and white on screens with fonts much more legible than my own. i want to write. feelings. not just about feelings. but to completely encompass and write out the feeling itself - in all of its vibrancy, in all of its melancholy. i think this is why the romantic period is my favorite period in music history. the feelings aren't explained or deconstructed - they are experienced.

here is a poem for today, and probably this month (because this month i graduate and there is not much time for poetry, or posting poetry, when one is graduating):

Here I love you.
In the dark pines the wind disentangles itself.
The moon glows like phosphorous on the vagrant waters.
Days, all one kind, go chasing each other.

The snow unfurls in dancing figures.
A silver gull slips down from the west.
Sometimes a sail. High, high stars.
Oh the black cross of a ship.
Alone.

Sometimes I get up early and even my soul is wet.
Far away the sea sounds and resounds.
This is a port.

Here I love you.
Here I love you and the horizon hides you in vain.
I love you still among these cold things.
Sometimes my kisses go on those heavy vessels
that cross the sea towards no arrival.
I see myself forgotten like those old anchors.

The piers sadden when the afternoon moors there.
My life grows tired, hungry to no purpose.
I love what I do not have. You are so far.
My loathing wrestles with the slow twilights.
But night comes and starts to sing to me.

The moon turns its clockwork dream.
The biggest stars look at me with your eyes.
And as I love you, the pines in the wind
want to sing your name with their leaves of wire.

Pablo Neruda