Poems in Your Pocket is a guerilla movement to print out poems and leave them somewhere for one day in April. It was April 14th and I didn't have a chance to join in but I thought I would share this, my favourite piece ever, and one that I have kept with me for years.
"I give her my dreams.
She dyes them red.
I give her my breath.
She turns it into rustling leaves.
She calls me from the throne of the rising sun.
Her chirp like a match flickering
On a dark and windy threshold."
from 'The Bird,' by Charles Simic in Selected Poems 1963-1983
So many possible meanings, such beautiful imagery and so easy to envision something beautiful from it.
