i am home. i am exhausted. and when i have time tomorrow, i am going to talk about What Happened In New York.
stay tuned.
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
Saturday, October 01, 2011
poem in october by dylan thomas
for my favorite month of the year, one of my most favorite poems of all time.
- Dylan Thomas
It was my thirtieth year to heaven
Woke to my hearing from harbour and neighbour wood
And the mussel pooled and the heron
Priested shore
The morning beckon
With water praying and call of seagull and rook
And the knock of sailing boats on the net webbed wall
Myself to set foot
That second
In the still sleeping town and set forth.
My birthday began with the water-
Birds and the birds of the winged trees flying my name
Above the farms and the white horses
And I rose
In rainy autumn
And walked abroad in a shower of all my days.
High tide and the heron dived when I took the road
Over the border
And the gates
Of the town closed as the town awoke.
A springful of larks in a rolling
Cloud and the roadside bushes brimming with whistling
Blackbirds and the sun of October
Summery
On the hill's shoulder,
Here were fond climates and sweet singers suddenly
Come in the morning where I wandered and listened
To the rain wringing
Wind blow cold
In the wood faraway under me.
Pale rain over the dwindling harbour
And over the sea wet church the size of a snail
With its horns through mist and the castle
Brown as owls
But all the gardens
Of spring and summer were blooming in the tall tales
Beyond the border and under the lark full cloud.
There could I marvel
My birthday
Away but the weather turned around.
It turned away from the blithe country
And down the other air and the blue altered sky
Streamed again a wonder of summer
With apples
Pears and red currants
And I saw in the turning so clearly a child's
Forgotten mornings when he walked with his mother
Through the parables
Of sun light
And the legends of the green chapels
And the twice told fields of infancy
That his tears burned my cheeks and his heart moved in mine.
These were the woods the river and sea
Where a boy
In the listening
Summertime of the dead whispered the truth of his joy
To the trees and the stones and the fish in the tide.
And the mystery
Sang alive
Still in the water and singingbirds.
And there could I marvel my birthday
Away but the weather turned around. And the true
Joy of the long dead child sang burning
In the sun.
It was my thirtieth
Year to heaven stood there then in the summer noon
Though the town below lay leaved with October blood.
O may my heart's truth
Still be sung
On this high hill in a year's turning.
Thursday, September 29, 2011
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
damage's weight
i almost went to sleep without writing something. i decided i was going to stop doing that.
i noticed you were looking around, for a few minutes, the other day. 4 pages in, anyway. 4 pages in isn't enough to find what you were looking for. if you were looking for it. go back a month or two, it's there. there have been more, but i haven't posted them. saving them for a rainy day years hence, when you no longer burn at the back of my throat, when you're no longer barely obscured by clouds.
when i've untied the emotions and can look at it all without them. when i'm "familiar enough with my ghosts to no longer care when they leave me." as i said once, once upon a time.
i've had my moments of it, too. moments of weakness. of wishing forgiveness or absolution. moments when i have scoured the corners of the interweb for a glimpse of you. but you've erased those trails surprisingly well. and all that ties me to you currently are the spam emails i keep getting from your (old?) gmail account, with some long and dubious link in them for some magical thing that has changed your life.
even though i know they're not really from you, when they show up, i still get that strange lump in my throat. that's how i know it's too soon.
that's how i know i probably shouldn't post this, that it might be a bad idea to let you know that i know that you were here, even if it was only for 4 minutes and 38 seconds.
i miss the way you could make me laugh so easily. i miss laughing easily. i miss being close to you, even though i wasn't. oh, damn nostalgia. it's always the shiny luster over everything that was wrong. makes it all look good from so far away.
i just wish we could be friends. it's come to that, at least. i'm not bitter anymore. regretful, but not bitter.
i noticed you were looking around, for a few minutes, the other day. 4 pages in, anyway. 4 pages in isn't enough to find what you were looking for. if you were looking for it. go back a month or two, it's there. there have been more, but i haven't posted them. saving them for a rainy day years hence, when you no longer burn at the back of my throat, when you're no longer barely obscured by clouds.
when i've untied the emotions and can look at it all without them. when i'm "familiar enough with my ghosts to no longer care when they leave me." as i said once, once upon a time.
i've had my moments of it, too. moments of weakness. of wishing forgiveness or absolution. moments when i have scoured the corners of the interweb for a glimpse of you. but you've erased those trails surprisingly well. and all that ties me to you currently are the spam emails i keep getting from your (old?) gmail account, with some long and dubious link in them for some magical thing that has changed your life.
even though i know they're not really from you, when they show up, i still get that strange lump in my throat. that's how i know it's too soon.
that's how i know i probably shouldn't post this, that it might be a bad idea to let you know that i know that you were here, even if it was only for 4 minutes and 38 seconds.
i miss the way you could make me laugh so easily. i miss laughing easily. i miss being close to you, even though i wasn't. oh, damn nostalgia. it's always the shiny luster over everything that was wrong. makes it all look good from so far away.
i just wish we could be friends. it's come to that, at least. i'm not bitter anymore. regretful, but not bitter.
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
run
these words
are an exorcism.
i distill myself
in poetry,
until you have:
me,
complete and
enigmatic enough
that i
no longer need
to be here.
and when
that is done,
like sylvia,
like emily,
i will
run
to the quick
and eager dark.
heed the call
of some need
to discover
if i can still
be,
without all
the masks and
the voices.
are an exorcism.
i distill myself
in poetry,
until you have:
me,
complete and
enigmatic enough
that i
no longer need
to be here.
and when
that is done,
like sylvia,
like emily,
i will
run
to the quick
and eager dark.
heed the call
of some need
to discover
if i can still
be,
without all
the masks and
the voices.
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