Tulips :: essays research papers

How to ListenI am going to cock my luff tonight like a dogin front of McGlinchys tap house on LocustI am going to stand beside the man who works all day combinghis thatch of grayish hair corkscrewed in every direction.I am going to pay attention to our livesunraveling between the forks of his fine-tooth comb.For once, we wont talk about the end of the worldor Vietnam or his lancinate paper shoes.For once, I am going to ignore the profanity andthe dancing and the jukebox so I can hear his head crackle beneath the skys stretch of faint stars.Jet LagOriented, suddenly Aurora,I rise without alarm in the random dark,Already full of purpose, without chocolateOr tea, to the cats delight, revving her pleasure. eat is a poem, light, in good measure,A grape harvest-time split to reveal the spokes and raysOf the sunburst wheels on a golden chariot.I dress, I invoke the dew drops from tips of my tresses.It is as if I can hear them, imagined horses,Astir in the stable, fogging the air with their breath,Snug under blankets, awaiting the curry combAnd oats, ready to set out oer the hill,Over the dormancy city, over the sillOf the sea, islands dribbled like pancake batter,Knowing where I am is always East,Always ahead of the day thats going to matter.Simple arithmeticalI am still imagining the men lined up, the ones I imagine who want me. Ill tell you everything I know there was a boy, a female child, and a boat. And palm trees, exclusively the mosquitos on the island chased them back to the boat. There was a boy, a girl, and a dog I still cant get the story now magic fruit? straw into gold? and nights black velvet has arrived. I am glad for my life and the high clear voices of four-year-olds in the Allegan Public Library. I am non the girl in the story I am the girl whose mouth is mainly shut but who imagines it open. But where are the other boy and girl? Holding hands and walking into the library while a baby falls out of a pile of money with awing grace.Tulip s essays research papers How to ListenI am going to cock my head tonight like a dogin front of McGlinchys Tavern on LocustI am going to stand beside the man who works all day combinghis thatch of gray hair corkscrewed in every direction.I am going to pay attention to our livesunraveling between the forks of his fine-tooth comb.For once, we wont talk about the end of the worldor Vietnam or his exquisite paper shoes.For once, I am going to ignore the profanity andthe dancing and the jukebox so I can hear his head cracklebeneath the skys stretch of faint stars.Jet LagOriented, suddenly Aurora,I rise without alarm in the random dark,Already full of purpose, without coffeeOr tea, to the cats delight, revving her pleasure.Breakfast is a poem, light, in good measure,A grapefruit split to reveal the spokes and raysOf the sunburst wheels on a golden chariot.I dress, I shake the dew drops from tips of my tresses.It is as if I can hear them, imagined horses,Astir in the stable, fogging the air with their breath,Snug under blankets, awaiting the curry combAnd oats, ready to set out over the hill,Over the sleeping city, over the sillOf the sea, islands dribbled like pancake batter,Knowing where I am is always East,Always ahead of the day thats going to matter.Simple ArithmeticI am still imagining the men lined up, the ones I imagine who want me. Ill tell you everything I know there was a boy, a girl, and a boat. And palm trees, but the mosquitos on the island chased them back to the boat. There was a boy, a girl, and a dog I still cant get the story straight magic fruit? straw into gold? and nights black velvet has arrived. I am glad for my life and the high clear voices of four-year-olds in the Allegan Public Library. I am not the girl in the story I am the girl whose mouth is mainly shut but who imagines it open. But where are the other boy and girl? Holding hands and walking into the library while a baby falls out of a pile of money with astonishing grace.