Saturday
Sep032016
Saturday, September 3, 2016 at 04:44AM
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L i q u i d G a z e
Broad Street and Monument Square
Camden, South Carolina
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I cannot dance upon my Toes --
No Man instructed me --
But oftentimes, among my mind,
A Glee possesseth me,
That had I Ballet knowledge --
Would put itself abroad
In Pirouette to blanch a Troupe --
Or lay a Prima, mad,
And though I had no Gown of Gauze --
No Ringlet, to my Hair,
Nor hopped to Audiences -- like Birds,
One Claw upon the Air,
Nor tossed my shape in Eider Balls,
Nor rolled on wheels of snow
Till I was out of sight, in sound,
The House encore me so --
Nor any know I know the Art
I mention -- easy -- Here --
Nor any Placard boast me --
It's full as Opera --
= Emily Dickinson =
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Happy Saturday
Friday
Sep022016
Vista of the vanished years
Friday, September 2, 2016 at 11:44AM
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O u t e r S p a c e s
Gay Street
Knoxville, Tennessee
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Now the dead past seems vividly alive,
And in this shining moment I can trace,
Down through the vista of the vanished years,
Your faun-like form, your fond elusive face.
And suddenly some secret spring's released,
And unawares a riddle is revealed,
And I can read like large, black-lettered print,
What seemed before a thing forever sealed.
I know the magic word, the graceful thought,
The song that fills me in my lucid hours,
The spirit's wine that thrills my body through,
And makes me music-drunk, are yours, all yours.
I cannot praise, for you have passed from praise,
I have no tinted thoughts to paint you true;
But I can feel and I can write the word;
The best of me is but the least of you.
And in this shining moment I can trace,
Down through the vista of the vanished years,
Your faun-like form, your fond elusive face.
And suddenly some secret spring's released,
And unawares a riddle is revealed,
And I can read like large, black-lettered print,
What seemed before a thing forever sealed.
I know the magic word, the graceful thought,
The song that fills me in my lucid hours,
The spirit's wine that thrills my body through,
And makes me music-drunk, are yours, all yours.
I cannot praise, for you have passed from praise,
I have no tinted thoughts to paint you true;
But I can feel and I can write the word;
The best of me is but the least of you.
= Claude McKay =
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Happy Friday
Thursday
Sep012016
Amazed my heart leaps
Thursday, September 1, 2016 at 11:44AM
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R e s t i n g i n P e a c e
St. John in the Wilderness Episcopal Cemetery
Flat Rock, North Carolina
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Vast and gray, the sky
is a simulacrum
to all but him whose days
are vast and gray, and --
In the tall, dried grasses
a goat stirs
with nozzle searching the ground.
-- my head is in the air
but who am I …?
And amazed my heart leaps
at the thought of love
vast and gray
yearning silently over me.
is a simulacrum
to all but him whose days
are vast and gray, and --
In the tall, dried grasses
a goat stirs
with nozzle searching the ground.
-- my head is in the air
but who am I …?
And amazed my heart leaps
at the thought of love
vast and gray
yearning silently over me.
= William Carlos Williams =
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Happy Thursday :: Happy September