Thursday, May 29, 2003

Jim Behrle asks whether poems can be erotic. I've always thought of Rexroth as, in part, an erotic poet. From "Between Myself and Death":

It is wonderful to watch you,
A living woman in a room
Full of frantic, sterile people,
And think of your arching buttocks
Under your velvet evening dress,
And the beautiful fire spreading
From your sex, burning flesh and bone,
The unbelievably complex
Tissues of your brain all alive
Under your coiling, splendid hair.


I like to think of you naked.
I put your naked body
Between myself alone and death.

It goes on from there....I like the entire poem. Even if the word "buttocks" sounds silly to contemporary ears.

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