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Love is not love until love's vulnerable.

Theodore Roethke

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Theodore Roethke
Age: 55 †
Born: 1908
Born: May 25
Died: 1963
Died: August 1
Poet
Teacher
Writer
Saginaw
Michigan
Vulnerability
Vulnerable
Relationship
Love

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Pain wanders through my bones like a lost fire
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All lovers live by longing, and endure: Summon a vision and declare it pure.
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I came where the river Ran over stones My ears knew An early joy. And all the waters Of all the streams Sang in my veins That summer day.
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How terrible the need for God.
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In the kingdom of bang and blab.
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Being, not doing, is my first joy.
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The fields stretch out in long unbroken rows. We walk aware of what is far and close. Here distance is familiar as a friend. The feud we kept with space comes to an end.
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And soon a branch, part of a hidden scene,The leafy mind, that long was tightly furled,Will turn its private substance into green,And young shoots spread upon our inner world.
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I have gone into the waste lonely places
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The poet: would rather eat a heart than a hambone.
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What have I done, dear God, to deserve this perpetual feeling that I'm almost ready to begin something really new?
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I am overwhelmed by the beautiful disorder of poetry, the eternal virginity of words.
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In a dark time, the eye begins to see / I meet my shadow in the deepening shade...Dark, dark my light, and darker my desire.
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When I go mad, I call my friends by phone: I am afraid they might think they're alone.
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Let others probe the mystery if they can.Time-harried prisoners of Shall and Will -The right thing happens to the happy man.
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By daily dying, I have come to be.
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Nothing would give up life: Even the dirt keeps breathing a small breath.
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Live in a perpetual great astonishment.
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And I walked, I walked through the light air I moved with the morning.
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We think by feeling. What is there to know?
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