The result of literature infiltrating and winding itself so intrinsically around the mind as to be no longer distinctly distinguishable: the original and the implanted.
Saturday, April 2, 2011
all one could ever desire
One lovely morning in April a small girl rests mid-run on a bench alongside the Mississippi. As the wood ducks and canadian geese court one another, she sheds her winter chill and embraces all of the world into her heart, falling madly in love with every inch of it.
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Memories
Katie: I don't have the right style for you do I?
Hubble: No you don't have the right style.
Katie: I'll change.
Hubble: No, don't change. You're your own girl, you have your own style.
Katie: But then I won't have you. Why can't I have you?
Hubble: Because you push too hard, every damn minute. There's no time to ever relax and enjoy living. Everything is too serious to be so serious.
Katie: If I push too hard it's because I want things to be better, I want us to be better, I want you to be better. Sure I make waves you have I mean you have to. And I'll keep making them until you're everything you should be and will be. You'll never find anyone as good for you as I am, to believe in you as much as I do or to love you as much.
Hubble: I know that.
Katie: Well then why?
The Way We Were
If only I could
His arms enclose me I watch as the mesh caging rises to entrap me
Out of instinct I shrink away
They pull me in tighter I watch as the bars close securely at the top
My eyes begin to rove frantically
A cry of desperate anguish trapped behind my lips I lay motionless, imitation of death
Convinced to witness the look of sorrow deepen his eyes
The confusion, the pain
Would murder me more than the steel cage that binds me
He already feels the frantic eyes
The tense rigidity of my body
That he holds so closely, protectively to him
Raging storms of muted passions he can barely guess at
My burden alone
He tucks his head in at the nape of my neck
Meant to relax and insure me of his protective presence
this love, his love
I feel the hot breath
It moistens the back of my neck, clings there, a hot immovable dew
His arms feel oppressively heavy
I want to leap from them
Go to the window, the dark, the stars
Give myself to their enclosure alone
The dark deep night I close my eyes
Breathe deeply, then breathe again
Flitting through skies
No metal cages, no oppressive arms
Feel the wind as it braces me and covers me
Cool, and light
Perch upon the tip of a silver branch
Moonlight splashing across the ground
Glittering the world of newly lain dew
No metal cages, no oppressive arms
Freedom
I open my eyes
The walls, the arms, the bed
My cage
His love
My love I bury my face in my arm
And wait for unconsciousness to remove my confines
So that I may fly
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Little Women
From Friedrich to Jo:
Your heart understood mine. In the depth of that fragrant night, I listened with ravished soul to your beloved voice. Your heart understood mine.
Jo, there is so much more to you than this, if you have the courage to write it.
Your heart understood mine. In the depth of that fragrant night, I listened with ravished soul to your beloved voice. Your heart understood mine.
Jo, there is so much more to you than this, if you have the courage to write it.
Monday, March 21, 2011
Of her Frankenstein
I have an affection for it, for it was the offspring of happy days, when death and grief were but words which found no true echo in my heart. its several pages speak of many a walk, many a drive, and many a conversation when I was not alone; and my companion was one who, in this world, I shall never more see.
Mary Shelley
Mary Shelley
Monday, February 21, 2011
William Blake
On the day of his death, William Blake worked relentlessly on his Dante's series. Eventually he paused in his work and turned to his wife, who was in tears by his bedside. Beholding her, Blake is said to have cried, "Stay Kate! Keep just as you are- I will draw your portrait-for you have ever been an angel to me!"
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