Friday, March 10

Circle of Doors

After reading Laura's post I remembered a poem I found a few days ago. I was looking for a copy of the Rootabega Stories by Carl Sandburg (Blixie Bimber grew up looking- looking for LUCK!) and then I distracted myself looking for a poem I found in Laura's Sandburg Collection once. I never found that poem but I found this one...

Circle of Doors

I LOVE him, I love him, ran the patter of her lips

And she formed his name on her tongue and sang

And she sent him word she loved him so much,

So much, and death was nothing; work, art, home,

All was nothing if her love for him was not first

Of all; the patter of her lips ran, I love him,

I love him; and he knew the doors that opened

Into doors and more doors, no end of doors,

And full length mirrors doubling and tripling

The apparitions of doors: circling corridors of

Looking glasses and doors, some with knobs, some

With no knobs, some opening slow to a heavy push,

And some jumping open at a touch and a hello.

And he knew if he so wished he could follow her

Swift running through circles of doors, hearing

Sometimes her whisper, I love him, I love him,

And sometimes only a high chaser of laughter

Somewhere five or ten doors ahead or five or ten

Doors behind, or chittering h-st, h-st, among corners

Of the tall full-length dusty looking glasses.

I love, I love, I love, she sang short and quick in

High thin beaten soprano and he knew the meanings,

The high chaser of laughter, the doors on doors

And the looking glasses, the room to room hunt,

The ends opening into new ends always.

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