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"Nothing grows in stilted land, and no dog howls below my moon." Part of a stream-of-consciousness entry. |
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LiveJournal for in reply (writing collective).
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| Friday, May 25th, 2007 |
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"Nothing grows in stilted land, and no dog howls below my moon." Part of a stream-of-consciousness entry. |
| Wednesday, October 11th, 2006 |
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Joanna Newsom: Clam, Crab, Cockle, Cowrie track #12 on album, 'milk-eyed mender' hear it/download | ( read it (lj-cut)Collapse ) |
| Saturday, May 27th, 2006 |
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| Friday, May 5th, 2006 |
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"to make little old ladies smile and businessmen trip over their own shoelaces until they drop that cell phone and notice flowers growing out of the cracks in the sidewalk." from an eccentric manifesto. by me. |
| Wednesday, May 3rd, 2006 |
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| Psalm 19 - modern translation - where's yours? |
| Monday, April 24th, 2006 |
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| Saturday, April 22nd, 2006 |
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| I just posted some thoughts on writer's block over at my blog Mere Words. Your comments and thoughts on the subject are encouraged. Enjoy. |
| Friday, April 14th, 2006 |
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untitled by Leonard Cohen These notebooks, these notebooks! Poetry is no substitute for survival. In the books beside my bed I used up my will like an alphabet. Something mechanical and obsolete is sawing up my heart with the blades of those invisible wheels which kept our grandfathers' airplanes aloft. Is it a god who punishes, is it a woman who pleases? I admire riders of the immaculate molecule, I crash in a heavy machine. Arrogant as a farmer who won't follow his children into the slums, sometimes I believe I alone colonize the sky with a handful of seeds. I don't like the price of a belief. Every god is jealous. I am no paliamentarian and there are no favourites of the Queen. |
| Saturday, April 1st, 2006 |
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From A Softer World |
| Thursday, March 23rd, 2006 |
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From here Reply! |
| Sunday, March 19th, 2006 |
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From here. |
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![]() From the beautiful, perfectly amazing Linda Bergkvitz ( Also, from the first stanza of a poem by Lord Byron...Collapse ) |
| Saturday, March 18th, 2006 |
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From Here |
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From A Softer World |
| Saturday, February 11th, 2006 |
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Flying Lessons, from this website. By Robert & Shana ParkeHarrison. |
| Friday, February 10th, 2006 |
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| Schwa |
| Friday, December 23rd, 2005 |
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| Saturday, December 10th, 2005 |
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| Saturday, November 19th, 2005 |
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from here |
| Monday, November 7th, 2005 |
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FOR God's sake hold your tongue, and let me love ; Or chide my palsy, or my gout ; My five gray hairs, or ruin'd fortune flout ; With wealth your state, your mind with arts improve ; Take you a course, get you a place, Observe his Honour, or his Grace ; Or the king's real, or his stamp'd face Contemplate ; what you will, approve, So you will let me love. Alas ! alas ! who's injured by my love? What merchant's ships have my sighs drown'd? Who says my tears have overflow'd his ground? When did my colds a forward spring remove? When did the heats which my veins fill Add one more to the plaguy bill? Soldiers find wars, and lawyers find out still Litigious men, which quarrels move, Though she and I do love. Call's what you will, we are made such by love ; Call her one, me another fly, We're tapers too, and at our own cost die, And we in us find th' eagle and the dove. The phoenix riddle hath more wit By us ; we two being one, are it ; So, to one neutral thing both sexes fit. We die and rise the same, and prove Mysterious by this love. We can die by it, if not live by love, And if unfit for tomb or hearse Our legend be, it will be fit for verse ; And if no piece of chronicle we prove, We'll build in sonnets pretty rooms ; As well a well-wrought urn becomes The greatest ashes, as half-acre tombs, And by these hymns, all shall approve Us canonized for love ; And thus invoke us, "You, whom reverend love Made one another's hermitage ; You, to whom love was peace, that now is rage ; Who did the whole world's soul contract, and drove Into the glasses of your eyes ; So made such mirrors, and such spies, That they did all to you epitomize— Countries, towns, courts beg from above A pattern of your love." |
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LiveJournal for in reply (writing collective).
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