I
O sister of the shadow,
blackest in strongest light,
Death, you pursue me. In a pure garden
innocent desire concieved you
and peace was lost,
pensive death,
on your mouth.
From that moment
I hear you in the mind's flow,
sounding the far depths,
suffering rival of eternity.
Poisonous mother of the ages,
fearful of palpitation
and of solitude,
beauty punished and smiling,
in the drowse of flesh
runaway dreamer,
unsleeping athlete
of our greatness,
when you have tamed me tell me:
in the melancholy of the living
how long will my shadow fly?
II
Probing the deepest selves
of our unhappy mask (enclosure of the infinite)
with fanatic blandishment ---
the dark vigil of our fathers.
Death, mute word,
riverbed or sand deposited
by the blood,
I hear you singing like a locust
in the darkened rose of reflections.
III
Etcher of the secret wrinkles
in our unhappy mask ---
the infinite jest of our fathers.
You, in the deep light,
O confused silence,
insist like the angry Locusts.
IV
clouds took me by the hand.
On the hillside I burn space and time,
like one of your messengers,
like a dream, divine death.
V
You have closed your eyes.
A night is born
full of hidden wounds,
of dead sounds
as of corks
when the nets are let down to the water
Your hands become a breath
of inviolable distances,
slippery as thoughts,
And that equivocation of the moon
and that gentlest rocking,
if you would lay them on my eyes,
touch the soul.
You are the woman who passes by like a leaf
leaving an autumn fire in teh trees.
VI
O beautiful prey,
night-voice,
your movements
breed a fever.
Only you, demented memory,
could capture freedom
On your elusive flesh
trembling in clouded mirrors
what crimes, I wonder,
did you not teach me to consummate?
with you, phantoms, I have no reticences,
and my heart is filled with your remorse
when it is day.
Written By : Stanley Kunitz
so I'm scared to call aimee today for fear of getting hung up on well I suppose we'll see how it goes right? v.v
The Artist by Stanley Kunitz 
Meditations on Death 
People 
