Invocation
Silent, about-to-be-parted-from house.
Wood creaking, trying to sigh, impatient.
Clicking of squirrel-teeth in the attic.
Denuded beds, couches stripped of serapes.
Deep snow shall block all entrances
and oppress the roof and darken
the windows. O Lares,
don’t leave.
The house yawns like a bear.
Guard its profound dreams for us,
that it return to us when we return.
November 1969
turbidus 
Captures that feeling that homes are sanctuaries.
I feel like poetry is one area of the arts where I am completely undereducated, but I like this. The earliest poetry I remember reading is Ginsberg’s stuff; I really got into Kerouac when I was about eleven or twelve and Ginsberg was the next logical step. I still tend to prefer free verse and beat poetry, but I have read some Yeats and really enjoyed a lot of it.
I know what you mean. Somehow, we have to unlearn the ways of reading we’re taught–or at least some of them. We also, I think, have to stop worrying about ‘the meaning’ as if it were some kind of monolith. Let it go; take what you will from what you read, I say.
[…] (poem of the day) Invocation by Denise Levertov (ephemeralstream.wordpress.com) […]