A fusion of Confusion. A veritable thought salad with no real common thread. Things herein might be true, or might be a fabrication. Hard to say. It's all part of my intoxicating mystique. Sometimes silly, sometimes serious, usually pointless. Sometimes I might say a few bad words and get a little out of hand. Sorry 'bout that. But this *IS* my blog. You wanna take it outside? HUH?
Monday, January 23, 2006
Excerpt
Inky waves roll me like laundry, Like rocks in a tumbler - Grinding me against ashen sands. Eroding under a bruised sky, My eyes don't see the sun - I grieve alone beneath my clouds.
Very Emily Dickinson-esque. Hvae you read her stuff? I hope so. If not, you must. Beautifully obscure. My favorite part is how you don't say "the clouds" BUT rather "MY clouds". I love how the narrator takes ownership, yet doesn't not claim any part of the sun.
I love this imagery.
ReplyDeleteSounds pretty bleak. I hope this isn't how you are feeling.
ReplyDeleteSAD getting to you sis? You need a vacation!
ReplyDeleteTalk to me, clew...
ReplyDeleteYou know my address...spill!!!
And I'm with naive...I think we could all use a vacation.
xoxoxoxo
Hmmmm. Creative moment, or current emotion? A little of both?
ReplyDeleteHave a BLT and feel better - besides the Steelers are going to the Superbowl!!! ;)
I'm worrying about you again! Get in touch! Hugs XOXOXO
ReplyDeleteVery Emily Dickinson-esque. Hvae you read her stuff? I hope so. If not, you must. Beautifully obscure.
ReplyDeleteMy favorite part is how you don't say "the clouds" BUT rather "MY clouds". I love how the narrator takes ownership, yet doesn't not claim any part of the sun.