angelgazing (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
angelgazing) wrote2005-04-10 03:31 am
angelgazing) wrote2005-04-10 03:31 am
What? New obsession? Me?
Ha! Ok. I really, really would like to state first and foremost that I Never Liked Poetry Until Chrystal Brainwashed Me.
Now you may ignore the rest of this post.
Oh, morbid poetry, how I adore thee...
(Or possibly I'm just enjoying the website stuffs.)
Margaret Atwood
You begin this way:
this is your hand,
this is your eye,
that is a fish, blue and flat
on the paper, almost
the shape of an eye.
This is your mouth, this is an O
or a moon, whichever
you like. This is yellow.
Outside the window
is the rain, green
because it is summer, and beyond that
the trees and then the world,
which is round and has only
the colors of these nine crayons.
This is the world, which is fuller
and more difficult to learn than I have said.
You are right to smudge it that way
with the red and then
the orange: the world burns.
Once you have learned these words
you will learn that there are more
words than you can ever learn.
The word hand floats above your hand
like a small cloud over a lake.
The word hand anchors
your hand to this table,
your hand is a warm stone
I hold between two words.
This is your hand, these are my hands, this is the world,
which is round but not flat and has more colors
than we can see.
It begins, it has an end,
this is what you will
come back to, this is your hand.
::sighs:: I need a library card. For a library that actually had books. Because I still have Niel Gaiman to read and buy so I don't need to be buying a bunch of poetry books that'll get me funny looks. I do not.
Perhaps I should look into getting a second job at Barns & Noble...
I am doomed. Possibly. Mock me a die. Really. I swear. Le sigh.
Now you may ignore the rest of this post.
Oh, morbid poetry, how I adore thee...
(Or possibly I'm just enjoying the website stuffs.)
Margaret Atwood
You begin this way:
this is your hand,
this is your eye,
that is a fish, blue and flat
on the paper, almost
the shape of an eye.
This is your mouth, this is an O
or a moon, whichever
you like. This is yellow.
Outside the window
is the rain, green
because it is summer, and beyond that
the trees and then the world,
which is round and has only
the colors of these nine crayons.
This is the world, which is fuller
and more difficult to learn than I have said.
You are right to smudge it that way
with the red and then
the orange: the world burns.
Once you have learned these words
you will learn that there are more
words than you can ever learn.
The word hand floats above your hand
like a small cloud over a lake.
The word hand anchors
your hand to this table,
your hand is a warm stone
I hold between two words.
This is your hand, these are my hands, this is the world,
which is round but not flat and has more colors
than we can see.
It begins, it has an end,
this is what you will
come back to, this is your hand.
::sighs:: I need a library card. For a library that actually had books. Because I still have Niel Gaiman to read and buy so I don't need to be buying a bunch of poetry books that'll get me funny looks. I do not.
Perhaps I should look into getting a second job at Barns & Noble...
I am doomed. Possibly. Mock me a die. Really. I swear. Le sigh.
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Possibly because the hick level of that town seems to suggest that most of the people that live there are illerate.I'm home!
::kisses::
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