Porchlit

Once a quarter a volunteer from Porchlit reads poems from the Poetry Garden located at Seattle Center. This time Yonnas recites the poems etched and found on the stones of the garden from poets such as Margie Piercy, Pablo Neruda, Margaret Atwood, Hildegard of Bingen and Annie Sexton. Especial thanks to Seattle Center, Office of Arts & Culture and Elisheba Johnson for working with Porchlit. http://ift.tt/29RZNhh

(Sonnet 154 from Town Hall, Seattle, WA after Seattle Poetry Grand Slam) The little Love-god lying once asleep, Laid by his side his heart-inflaming brand, Whilst many nymphs that vowed chaste life to keep Came tripping by; but in her maiden hand The fairest votary took up that fire Which many legions of true hearts had warmed; And so the General of hot desire Was, sleeping, by a virgin hand disarmed. This brand she quenched in a cool well by, Which from Love's fire took heat perpetual, Growing a bath and healthful remedy, For men diseased; but I, my mistress' thrall, Came there for cure and this by that I prove, Love's fire heats water, water cools not love. http://ift.tt/1raHM0x

(Sonnet 154 on the 400 year anniversary of Shakespeare from the original porch/balcony where a year ago Porchlit started in Seattle, WA) The little Love-god lying once asleep, Laid by his side his heart-inflaming brand, Whilst many nymphs that vowed chaste life to keep Came tripping by; but in her maiden hand The fairest votary took up that fire Which many legions of true hearts had warmed; And so the General of hot desire Was, sleeping, by a virgin hand disarmed. This brand she quenched in a cool well by, Which from Love's fire took heat perpetual, Growing a bath and healthful remedy, For men diseased; but I, my mistress' thrall, Came there for cure and this by that I prove, Love's fire heats water, water cools not love. http://ift.tt/1TqhPmS

(Last sonnet No. 154 on the 400 year anniversary of Shakespeare's death from David H. Koch Theater (New York City Ballet), Lincoln Center, NY) The little Love-god lying once asleep, Laid by his side his heart-inflaming brand, Whilst many nymphs that vowed chaste life to keep Came tripping by; but in her maiden hand The fairest votary took up that fire Which many legions of true hearts had warmed; And so the General of hot desire Was, sleeping, by a virgin hand disarmed. This brand she quenched in a cool well by, Which from Love's fire took heat perpetual, Growing a bath and healthful remedy, For men diseased; but I, my mistress' thrall, Came there for cure and this by that I prove, Love's fire heats water, water cools not love. http://ift.tt/1VK9zlO

(Sonnet 153 from Rainier Beach Library, Seattle, WA) Cupid laid by his brand and fell asleep: A maid of Dian's this advantage found, And his love-kindling fire did quickly steep In a cold valley-fountain of that ground; Which borrowed from this holy fire of Love, A dateless lively heat, still to endure, And grew a seething bath, which yet men prove Against strange maladies a sovereign cure. But at my mistress' eye Love's brand new-fired, The boy for trial needs would touch my breast; I, sick withal, the help of bath desired, And thither hied, a sad distempered guest, But found no cure, the bath for my help lies Where Cupid got new fire; my mistress' eyes. http://ift.tt/26kenBl

(Sonnet 152 from the entrance of Olympic Sculpture Park) In loving thee thou know'st I am forsworn, But thou art twice forsworn, to me love swearing; In act thy bed-vow broke, and new faith torn, In vowing new hate after new love bearing: But why of two oaths' breach do I accuse thee, When I break twenty? I am perjured most; For all my vows are oaths but to misuse thee, And all my honest faith in thee is lost: For I have sworn deep oaths of thy deep kindness, Oaths of thy love, thy truth, thy constancy; And, to enlighten thee, gave eyes to blindness, Or made them swear against the thing they see; For I have sworn thee fair; more perjured eye, To swear against the truth so foul a lie! http://ift.tt/26hKkdv

(Sonnet 152 from The Swan Steps of the Swan Theatre in Stratford-upon-Avon) In loving thee thou know'st I am forsworn, But thou art twice forsworn, to me love swearing; In act thy bed-vow broke, and new faith torn, In vowing new hate after new love bearing: But why of two oaths' breach do I accuse thee, When I break twenty? I am perjured most; For all my vows are oaths but to misuse thee, And all my honest faith in thee is lost: For I have sworn deep oaths of thy deep kindness, Oaths of thy love, thy truth, thy constancy; And, to enlighten thee, gave eyes to blindness, Or made them swear against the thing they see; For I have sworn thee fair; more perjured eye, To swear against the truth so foul a lie! http://ift.tt/1SwrUyC

(Sonnet 151 from 33 Church St, Blackpool FY1 1HT) Love is too young to know what conscience is; Yet who knows not, conscience is born of love? Then, gentle cheater, urge not my amiss, Lest guilty of my faults thy sweet self prove. For thou betraying me, I do betray My nobler part to my gross body's treason; My soul doth tell my body that he may Triumph in love; flesh stays no farther reason, But rising at thy name, doth point out thee As his triumphant prize. Proud of this pride, He is contented thy poor drudge to be, To stand in thy affairs, fall by thy side. No want of conscience hold it that I call Her 'love,' for whose dear love I rise and fall. http://ift.tt/1Vl2Jm5

(Sonnet 151 from a balcony in Stratford, Ontario) Love is too young to know what conscience is; Yet who knows not, conscience is born of love? Then, gentle cheater, urge not my amiss, Lest guilty of my faults thy sweet self prove. For thou betraying me, I do betray My nobler part to my gross body's treason; My soul doth tell my body that he may Triumph in love; flesh stays no farther reason, But rising at thy name, doth point out thee As his triumphant prize. Proud of this pride, He is contented thy poor drudge to be, To stand in thy affairs, fall by thy side. No want of conscience hold it that I call Her 'love,' for whose dear love I rise and fall. http://ift.tt/1VkbdtO

(Sonnet 150 from a porch in Seattle, WA) O! from what power hast thou this powerful might, With insufficiency my heart to sway? To make me give the lie to my true sight, And swear that brightness doth not grace the day? Whence hast thou this becoming of things ill, That in the very refuse of thy deeds There is such strength and warrantise of skill, That, in my mind, thy worst all best exceeds? Who taught thee how to make me love thee more, The more I hear and see just cause of hate? O! though I love what others do abhor, With others thou shouldst not abhor my state: If thy unworthiness raised love in me, More worthy I to be beloved of thee. http://ift.tt/1SjzU3I

(Sonnet 149 from the balcony inside of SIFF Cinema Egyptian) Canst thou, O cruel! say I love thee not, When I against myself with thee partake? Do I not think on thee, when I forgot Am of my self, all tyrant, for thy sake? Who hateth thee that I do call my friend, On whom frown'st thou that I do fawn upon, Nay, if thou lour'st on me, do I not spend Revenge upon myself with present moan? What merit do I in my self respect, That is so proud thy service to despise, When all my best doth worship thy defect, Commanded by the motion of thine eyes? But, love, hate on, for now I know thy mind, Those that can see thou lov'st, and I am blind. http://ift.tt/1Tgjvzd

(Sonnet 149 from "from a fire escape in clifton, NJ"_ Canst thou, O cruel! say I love thee not, When I against myself with thee partake? Do I not think on thee, when I forgot Am of my self, all tyrant, for thy sake? Who hateth thee that I do call my friend, On whom frown'st thou that I do fawn upon, Nay, if thou lour'st on me, do I not spend Revenge upon myself with present moan? What merit do I in my self respect, That is so proud thy service to despise, When all my best doth worship thy defect, Commanded by the motion of thine eyes? But, love, hate on, for now I know thy mind, Those that can see thou lov'st, and I am blind. http://ift.tt/1MDM2zI

(Sonnet 148 from Seattle Indian Health Board) O me! what eyes hath Love put in my head, Which have no correspondence with true sight; Or, if they have, where is my judgment fled, That censures falsely what they see aright? If that be fair whereon my false eyes dote, What means the world to say it is not so? If it be not, then love doth well denote Love's eye is not so true as all men's: no, How can it? O! how can Love's eye be true, That is so vexed with watching and with tears? No marvel then, though I mistake my view; The sun itself sees not, till heaven clears. O cunning Love! with tears thou keep'st me blind, Lest eyes well-seeing thy foul faults should find. http://ift.tt/1TcktfP

(Sonnet 147 from the initial porch on 12th Avenue S & King St) My love is as a fever longing still, For that which longer nurseth the disease; Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill, The uncertain sickly appetite to please. My reason, the physician to my love, Angry that his prescriptions are not kept, Hath left me, and I desperate now approve Desire is death, which physic did except. Past cure I am, now Reason is past care, And frantic-mad with evermore unrest; My thoughts and my discourse as madmen's are, At random from the truth vainly expressed; For I have sworn thee fair, and thought thee bright, Who art as black as hell, as dark as night. http://ift.tt/1qxRGZM

(Sonnet 147 from a porch overlooking a body of water) My love is as a fever longing still, For that which longer nurseth the disease; Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill, The uncertain sickly appetite to please. My reason, the physician to my love, Angry that his prescriptions are not kept, Hath left me, and I desperate now approve Desire is death, which physic did except. Past cure I am, now Reason is past care, And frantic-mad with evermore unrest; My thoughts and my discourse as madmen's are, At random from the truth vainly expressed; For I have sworn thee fair, and thought thee bright, Who art as black as hell, as dark as night. http://ift.tt/1p77ul9

Paige Gottheim reads "May I Feel Said He" by EE Cummings may i feel said he by e e cummings may i feel said he (i'll squeal said she just once said he) it's fun said she (may i touch said he how much said she a lot said he) why not said she (let's go said he not too far said she what's too far said he where you are said she) may i stay said he (which way said she like this said he if you kiss said she may i move said he is it love said she) if you're willing said he (but you're killing said she but it's life said he but your wife said she now said he) ow said she (tiptop said he don't stop said she oh no said he) go slow said she (cccome?said he ummm said she) you're divine!said he (you are Mine said she) http://ift.tt/1MyYuR0

From a stoop in Bed-Stuy Daniel London recites My Dad's Wallet by Raymond Carver. Enjoy!!! My Dad's Wallet by Raymond Carver Long before he thought of his own death, my dad said he wanted to lie close to his parents. He missed them so after they went away. He said this enough that my mother remembered, and I remembered. But when the breath left his lungs and all signs of life had faded, he found himself in a town 512 miles away from where he wanted most to be. My dad, though. He was restless even in death. Even in death he had this one last trip to take. All his life he liked to wander, and now he had one more place to get to. The undertaker said he'd arrange it, not to worry. Some poor light from the window fell on the dusty floor where we waited that afternoon until the man came out of the back room and peeled off his rubber gloves. He carried the smell of formaldehyde with him. He was a big man, this undertaker said. Then began to tell us why he liked living in his small town. This man who'd just opened my dad's veins. How much is it going to cost? I said. He took out his pad and pen and began to write. First, the preparation chares. Then he figured the transportation of the remains at 22 cents a mile. But this was a round-trip for the undertaker, don't forget. Plus, say, six meals and two nights in a motel. He figured some more. Add a surcharge of $210 for his time and trouble, and there you have it. He thought we might argue. There was a spot of color on each of his cheeks as he looked up from his figures. The same poor light fell in the same poor place on the dusty floor. My mother nodded as if she understood. But she hadn't understood a word of it. None of it had made any sense to her, beginning with the time she left home with my dad. She only knew that whatever was happening was going to take money. She reached into her purse and brought up my dad's wallet. The three of us in that little room that afternoon. Our breath coming and going. We stared at the wallet for a minute. Nobody said anything. All the life had gone out of that wallet. It was old and rent and soiled. But it was my dad's wallet. And she opened it and looked inside. Drew out a handful of money that would go toward this last, most astounding, trip. http://ift.tt/1MyYiS2