A Frame of Dust

A word is dead when it is said, some say,
I say it just begins to live that day.
 
Archive Search
 
Links
Say Hello!
Maine Line
Midnight Blue
 
This page is powered by Blog Studio.
and s-integrator

Thursday, August 05, 2004

O, for cascades of Time! This short,
Brutal life is not for me. It takes an hour
To sip a wine worthy of the drinking;
It takes a Year to bathe in fields
Of violet grass, a month just for the dew
To soak my Skin to velvet peak, another for the sun
To bake me dry as powder. How can we live
In shorthand like a Mayfly? How can we die
Not knowing whither Time will take our
Half-formed meditations? We want to eat the world
And have not Time enough to sniff the spice
That should go with it. O, for cascades of Time
To ripple by like endless ocean waves!
This short, Brutal life is not for me. I am too
Clumsy in my walking, too slow in my seeing,
Too much a child of culture when I speak.
I fight my way through wars to truly see an orange
Ripen; to smell it without preconception, to taste
It without History but pure, each time a maiden voyage,
Each time a brand new love. O, for cascades of Time
Like the Ages of the antique Stars!
This short and Brutal life is not for me.

merilee 8:35 PM - [Link]
...
Monday, July 12, 2004
Of ancient Tales and wonderLust
I dream, when everything was new
And spiced with sun and hope,
Before the charismatic past was
Kidnapped by the small mind of the present.

Of Tigers bright and lonely seagulls
Surfing o'er a wave of sin, of
Badgers snuffling under the hedge
And elephants in lazy castles swimming,
I dream of things that never were,
I'm tempted by their Fate,
I'm drowning in a pool of liquid fire;

I do not know what Time and Chance await.
merilee 10:07 PM - [Link]
...
Sunday, July 11, 2004
I cannot see the empty road ahead
For all the caustic fever of my Eye.
I wonder if my dignity is dead
Or resting in some long-forgotten lie
Of thorns and hollyhocks, buried by
No Mourners, Kings or spies.

Would he notice? Would he cry?
Would he recognize me spun like silver thread
Among the common wool? I think not.
He'd see his own reflection, marvel at his will,
Pat the mourners on the back and gently pay the bill.
He'll have his peace of mind, though dearly bought.
merilee 11:46 AM - [Link]
...
Thursday, July 08, 2004
My elegant Soul, by far
More elegant than I,
Swims Naked on a sea of broken glass
And pain is all it knows.
Oceans toss it back and back,
The Winds change its direction.
It lost Its way some time ago,
Cold and blind and floating
In Its own Blood.
merilee 9:18 PM - [Link]
...
Tuesday, June 15, 2004
My elegant Soul, more elegant
By far than I, Swims Naked on a sea of glass
And pain is all it ever sees.
Wild Oceans push it back and back,
The Winds turn its Direction in untamed circles
Like bending compass slashing
At its thin, defenseless skin.
merilee 8:57 PM - [Link]
...