Thursday, July 25, 2013


After I had cut off my hands / and grown new ones// something my former hands had longed for / came and asked to be rocked. // After my plucked out eyes / had withered, and new ones grown//  something my former eyes had wept for / came asking to be pitied.

Denise Levertov (de "Poems 1968-1972", New Directions Publishing Corporation, 1987.)

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