Bleecker Street, Summer Summer for prose and lemons, for nakedness and languor, for the eternal idleness of the imagined return, for rare flutes and bare feet, and the August bedroom of tangled sheets and the Sunday salt, ah violin! When I press summer dusks together, it is a month of street accordions and sprinklers laying… Continue reading Derek Walcott
Love After Love The time will come when, with elation you will greet yourself arriving at your own door, in your own mirror and each will smile at the other’s welcome, and say, sit here. Eat. You will love again the stranger who was your self. Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart to… Continue reading Derek Walcot
Summer for prose and lemons, for nakedness and languor, for the eternal idleness of the imagined return, for rare flutes and bare feet, and the August bedroom of tangled sheets… — Derek Walcott, “Bleecker Street, Summer,” Collected Poems 1948-1984. All rights reserved. (Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1986)
Half my friends are dead. I will make you new ones, said earth No, give me them back, as they were, instead, with faults and all, I cried. — Derek Walcott, from “Sea Canes,” The Poetry of Derek Walcott 1948-2013 (Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2014)
The Vale of Soul-Making 