If I Were Tickled by the Rub of Love
by Dylan Thomas
If I were tickled by the rub of love,
A rooking girl who stole me for her side,
Broke through her straws, breaking my bandaged string,
If the red tickle as the cattle calve
Still set to scratch a laughter from my lung,
I would not fear the apple nor the flood
Nor the bad blood of spring.
Shall it be male or female? say the cells,
And drop the plum like fire from the flesh.
If I were tickled by the hatching hair,
by Dylan Thomas
If I were tickled by the rub of love,
A rooking girl who stole me for her side,
Broke through her straws, breaking my bandaged string,
If the red tickle as the cattle calve
Still set to scratch a laughter from my lung,
I would not fear the apple nor the flood
Nor the bad blood of spring.
Shall it be male or female? say the cells,
And drop the plum like fire from the flesh.
If I were tickled by the hatching hair,
The winging bone that sprouted in the heels,
The itch of man upon a baby's thigh,
The itch of man upon a baby's thigh,
I would not fear the gallows nor the axe
Nor the crossed sticks of war.
Shall it be male or female? say the fingers
That chalk the walls with green girls and their men.
I would not fear the muscling-in of love
If I were tickled by the urchin hungers
Rehearsing heat upon a raw-edged nerve.
I would not fear the devil in the loin
Nor the outspoken grave.
Nor the crossed sticks of war.
Shall it be male or female? say the fingers
That chalk the walls with green girls and their men.
I would not fear the muscling-in of love
If I were tickled by the urchin hungers
Rehearsing heat upon a raw-edged nerve.
I would not fear the devil in the loin
Nor the outspoken grave.
9 comments:
http://m.taschen.com/pages/en/catalogue/artists_editions/all/05093/facts.norman_mailer_moonfire_the_epic_journey_of_apollo_11.htm
I have to confess; I did not understand the meaning of this poem, aside from its greenness and the lifeforms, then. I was thinking about the associations with Dylan Thomas, the person who read Dylan Thomas, and extolled his insobriety.
I realize it is a fine poem, now.
http://www.opednews.com/populum/pagem.php?f=The-Cosmic-Story--Cancer-by-Cathy-Lynn-Pagano-Astrology_Cancer_Capricorn_Full-Moon-150102-993.html
http://www.guggenheim.org/new-york/exhibitions/past/exhibit/2522
http://www.loc.gov/poetry/180/141.html
http://www.wsj.com/articles/SB10001424052748704515904576075521026203578
For Exercise 29.
https://drive.google.com/file/d/0B3DfyJRIT4jydW4yM1BteTJtOTQ/view
http://36.media.tumblr.com/c862171779d7d5a1f501754a7e9efc61/tumblr_mtlyalkyOm1rxgoj1o2_1280.jpg
http://www.leicestergalleries.com/19th-20th-century-paintings/d/modern-british/ceri-richards/10830
Exercise 59 will go here. It is exacerbating, for me, to be stalled on the running list of things.
https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/9/99/Zerynthia_rumina_20090411a.jpg/1280px-Zerynthia_rumina_20090411a.jpg
https://1drv.ms/u/s!AsA4BY25Ql_1iRW3TGNEe09O_20y
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