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283,495 voters
“Let’s all forsake,
The Land of Wake,
And break for the Land of Nod.
Where we can try,
To touch the sky,
Or dance beneath the sod.
A toll for the living,
A toll for the lost,
A toll for the wise ones,
Who tally the cost,
So let’s escape,
Due south of Wake,
And make for the Land of Nod.”
― Thunderhead
The Land of Wake,
And break for the Land of Nod.
Where we can try,
To touch the sky,
Or dance beneath the sod.
A toll for the living,
A toll for the lost,
A toll for the wise ones,
Who tally the cost,
So let’s escape,
Due south of Wake,
And make for the Land of Nod.”
― Thunderhead
“I have named you queen.
There are taller than you, taller.
There are purer than you, purer.
There are lovelier than you, lovelier.
But you are the queen.
When you go through the streets
No one recognizes you.
No one sees your crystal crown, no one looks
At the carpet of red gold
That you tread as you pass,
The nonexistent carpet.
And when you appear
All the rivers sound
In my body, bells
Shake the sky,
And a hymn fills the world.
Only you and I,
Only you and I, my love,
Listen to it.”
― Love Poems
There are taller than you, taller.
There are purer than you, purer.
There are lovelier than you, lovelier.
But you are the queen.
When you go through the streets
No one recognizes you.
No one sees your crystal crown, no one looks
At the carpet of red gold
That you tread as you pass,
The nonexistent carpet.
And when you appear
All the rivers sound
In my body, bells
Shake the sky,
And a hymn fills the world.
Only you and I,
Only you and I, my love,
Listen to it.”
― Love Poems
“You, yesterday’s boy,
to whom confusion came:
Listen, lest you forget who you are.
It was not pleasure you fell into. It was joy.
You were called to be bridegroom,
though the bride coming toward you is your shame.
What chose you is the great desire.
Now all flesh bares itself to you.
On pious images pale cheeks
blush with a strange fire.
Your senses uncoil like snakes
awakened by the beat of the tambourine.
Then suddenly you’re left all alone
with your body that can’t love you
and your will that can’t save you.
But now, like a whispering in dark streets,
rumors of God run through your dark blood.”
― Rilke's Book of Hours: Love Poems to God
to whom confusion came:
Listen, lest you forget who you are.
It was not pleasure you fell into. It was joy.
You were called to be bridegroom,
though the bride coming toward you is your shame.
What chose you is the great desire.
Now all flesh bares itself to you.
On pious images pale cheeks
blush with a strange fire.
Your senses uncoil like snakes
awakened by the beat of the tambourine.
Then suddenly you’re left all alone
with your body that can’t love you
and your will that can’t save you.
But now, like a whispering in dark streets,
rumors of God run through your dark blood.”
― Rilke's Book of Hours: Love Poems to God
Sawyer’s 2025 Year in Books
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