Quietly
by Kenneth Rexroth
Lying here quietly beside you,
My cheek against your firm, quiet thighs,
The calm music of Boccherini
Washing over us in the quiet,
As the sun leaves the housetops and goes
Out over the Pacific, quiet–
So quiet the sun moves beyond us,
So quiet as the sun always goes,
So quiet, our bodies, worn with the
Times and the penances of love, our
Brains curled, quiet in their shells, dormant,
Our hearts slow, quiet, reliable
In their interlocking rhythms, the pulse
In your thigh caressing my cheek. Quiet.
Constantly Risking Absurdity (#15)
by Lawrence Ferlinghetti
Constantly risking absurdity
and death
whenever he performs
above the heads
of his audience
The poet like an acrobat
climbs on rime
to a high wire of his own making
and balancing on eyebeams
above a sea of faces
paces his way
to the other side of day
performing entrechats
and sleight-of-foot tricks
and other high theatrics
and all without mistaking
anything
for what it may not be
For he’s the super realist
who must perforce perceive
taut truth
before the taking of each stance or step
in his supposed advance
toward that still higher perch
where Beauty stands and waits
with gravity
to start her death-defying leap
And he
a little charley chaplin man
who may or may not catch
her fair eternal form
spreadeagled in the empty air
of existence.
Lawrence Ferlinghetti from A Coney Island of the Mind: Poems copyright 1958
Fourteen Lines 
How might the two poems connect?
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Great Question. They poets are contemporaries connected in their careers in time and geography. But more importantly love poems by their nature are high wire acts, where you risk sounding absurd or syrupy if you get it wrong and overly serious if you get it right. It is a high wire act. I think the second poem is a great reminder to writers and readers that be so kind as to give your poet a safety net once in a while so if he or she falls off the trapeze, they can at least climb out of the netting and try again.
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