I hope Major reads this poem Thursday night. How could he not?
An empire of handholding and park benches? I find really good love poems to be a rare breed. "Leave it All Up to Me" holds the electricity of new love -- the language pushes forward with a driving force that brings me to the finish line only to begin the marathon of that single kiss again and again. Hearing
Major Jackson read this and other poems in Seattle is a rare treat. I think there are some tickets left -- $20 for general seating, but
free to students the night of the show. Just bring a student I.D. Hope to see you there.
Click here to purchase tickets now!
Leave It All Up to Me
All we want is to succumb to a single kiss
that will contain us like a marathon
with no finish line, and if so, that we land
like newspapers before sunrise, halcyon
mornings arrived like blue martinis. I am
learning the steps to a foreign song: her mind
was torpedo, and her body was storm,
a kind of Wow. All we want is a metropolis
of Sundays, an empire of hand-holding
and park benches? She says, “Leave it all up to me.”
And here is a whiteboard animation piece that does a wonderful job of joining images to words - especially
mornings arrived like blue martinis.
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