Some gems I have discovered at Poets House:
Horse and Tree
Everybody who’s anybody longs to be a tree—
or ride one, hair blown to froth.
That’s why horses were invented, and saddles
tooled with singular stars.
This is why we braid their harsh manes
as if they were children, why children
might fear a carousel at first for the way
it insists that life is round. No,
we reply, there is music and then it stops;
the beautiful is always rising and falling.
We call and the children sing back one more time.
In the tree the luminous sap ascends.
Your absence has gone through me
Like thread through a needle.
Everything I do is stitched with its color.
My life closed twice before its close;
It yet remains to see
If immortality unveil
A third event to me,
So huge, so hopeless to conceive,
As these that twice befell.
Parting is all we know of heaven,
And all we need of hell.
-Emily Dickinson (I have the feeling this is an old, doctored version due to the lack of dashes and normal capitalization)
And my favorite…a poem written by a young visitor that graces the drawers of the card catalogue:
When people think or have an idea
they get a lightbulb hanging over their heads.
But not me I get an icecream.
-Mira, 8 1/2