Happy Valentine’s Day.
Consider the lack of an exclamation point to be as a moment of silence for the murdered and injured Michigan State students, their families, their friends, their fellow Spartans.
It’s a strange day to be celebrating love. Two of my nieces spent last night barricaded in their rooms listening to helicopters circling overhead. I can’t stop thinking about their terror. Given that context, my annual posting seems trivial to the point of being clueless and insensitive.
On the other hand. It’s the very absence of love that allows such violence to erupt. So once more, with enthusiasm—Happy Valentine’s Day, dear readers. Here’s to the opened hearts and loving gestures we all need today.
I left Robinson Jeffers “Wonder and Joy” on the back of a “Danger Rip Tide” sign at a favorite beach.
Wonder and Joy
by Robinson Jeffers
The things that one grows tired of—O, be sure
They are only foolish artificial things!
Can a bird ever tire of having wings?
And I, so long as life and sense endure,
(Or brief be they!) shall nevermore inure
My heart to the recurrence of the springs,
Of gray dawns, the gracious evenings,
The infinite wheeling stars. A wonder pure
Must ever well within me to behold
Venus decline; or great Orion, whose belt
Is studded with three nails of burning gold,
Ascend the winter heaven. Who never felt
This wondering joy may yet be good or great:
But envy him not: he is not fortunate.
This beautiful love song to life itself is a Valentine’s gift to all, single, married, widowed, partnered. As long as we’re still breathing, there’s so much to love.
I slipped Ada Limón‘s “The Conditional” amongst the sugar packages at a local diner.
The Conditional
by Ada Limón
Say tomorrow doesn’t come.
Say the moon becomes an icy pit.
Say the sweet-gum tree is petrified.
Say the sun’s a foul black tire fire.
Say the owl’s eyes are pinpricks.
Say the raccoon’s a hot tar stain.
Say the shirt’s plastic ditch-litter.
Say the kitchen’s a cow’s corpse.
Say we never get to see it: bright
future, stuck like a bum star, never
coming close, never dazzling.
Say we never meet her. Never him.
Say we spend our last moments staring
at each other, hands knotted together,
clutching the dog, watching the sky burn.
Say, It doesn’t matter. Say, That would be
enough. Say you’d still want this: us alive,
right here, feeling lucky.
Here’s a litany of conditionals to arrive at an unconditional: I don’t need anything but you.
Say you’d still want this: us alive,
right here, feeling lucky.
A picnic table with a view was a good place to leave Dorothy Lasky’s “The Wall Hanging I Never Noticed.”
The Wall Hanging I Never Noticed
by Dorothy Lasky
I never noticed before
How the red flowers hang from the blue branches
I never noticed before the light in this room
I never noticed the way the air is cool again
I never noticed anything but you
But you but you
So that I couldn’t sleep
I never noticed what was anything but you
Until I noticed you
And could not help it
Until I noticed you I could not help it
Until you made the red flowers alive again
Until the blue branches
The lemons you loved, but also the way you loved me, too
Until all of this I never noticed you
But once I did
I never minded noticing
I never stopped noticing
Until I noticed you
I never stopped noticing
Until you, I never stopped
This poem is a bit of a maze for me—I’m not sure when the noticing stops or starts, there’s so much noticing and noticing—but here’s what comes through to me: one of the many wonders of love is the new set of eyes we get.
I taped Robinson Jeffers’ “To Helen About Her Hair” to a fence. The grazing cows showed no interest, but I hope someone walking past takes it and shares it with his Valentine.
To Helen About Her Hair
by Robinson Jeffers
Your hair is long and wonderful;
It is dark, with golden
Lights in the length of it.
Long, lovely, liquid, glorious
Is your hair, and lustrous,
Scented with summertime.
Beware when you are combing it,
In the nights and mornings,
Shaking its splendor out.
I bid you comb it carefully,
For my soul is caught there,
Wound in the web of it.
This is one of the most romantic poems I’ve ever read. Who wouldn’t swoon if someone said to them—
I bid you comb it carefully,
For my soul is caught there,
Wound in the web of it.
Target’s Valentine’s card display got a little extra love with Matthew Rohrer’s “Credo.”
Credo
by Matthew Rohrer
I believe there is something else
entirely going on but no single
person can ever know it,
so we fall in love.
It could also be true that what we use
everyday to open cans was something
much nobler, that we’ll never recognize.
I believe the woman sleeping beside me
doesn’t care about what’s going on
outside, and her body is warm
with trust
which is a great beginning.
The opening four lines are as good an argument as any for never giving up on love.
Finally, a brief tribute to Burt Bacharach who died a week before Valentine’s Day. Seems fitting, since almost all his songs are about love— yearning for it, once in a while getting it, and usually, losing it. I’ve loved his music since I was a teenager—he’s still a particular obsession of mine, all these years later. RIP Burt.
I had planned to close out this post with a video of Dionne Warwick singing his “What the World Needs Now.” Somehow I’m unable to, but I hope you’ll search it out on Spotify, Pandora or YouTube and give it a listen. It’s the perfect song for today.
Loved all the poems, but especially these two:
‘Say, It doesn’t matter. Say, That would be
enough. Say you’d still want this: us alive,
right here, feeling lucky.’
and
‘I believe the woman sleeping beside me
doesn’t care about what’s going on
outside, and her body is warm
with trust
which is a great beginning.’
Love.
Thanks for highlighting those, Yen!