For Jane

By Charles Bukowski

225 days under grass 
and you know more than I. 
they have long taken your blood, 
you are a dry stick in a basket. 
is this how it works? 
in this room 
the hours of love 
still make shadows. 

when you left 
you took almost 
everything. 
I kneel in the nights 
before tigers 
that will not let me be. 

what you were 
will not happen again. 
the tigers have found me 
and I do not care.

A Girl

By Ezra Pound 

The tree has entered my hands, 
The sap has ascended my arms, 
The tree has grown in my breast - 
Downward, 
The branches grow out of me, like arms. 

Tree you are, 
Moss you are, 
You are violets with wind above them. 
A child - so high - you are, 
And all this is folly to the world. 

music pt. 2