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The Crooked Heart

     

Wednesday, April 02, 2003

 
More Poetry

Nerve has published a wonderful poem called Sofa-Bed by Douglas Goetsch, and Slate has published several works by the distiguished poet Donald Rumsfeld (I'm not exactly sure whether Rumsfeld or American poetry comes off worse in this).



Tuesday, April 01, 2003

 
It has come to my attention that certain of my readers are woefully deficient in knowledge of the poetic genius whose work provided the inspiration for the title of this blog. Therefore, I am instituting regular Auden Appreciation posts for the edification of my readers (this has nothing (Nothing! How could you ever accuse me of such a thing?) to do with the fact that my BA is now due in exactly 239 hours and 20 minutes, and cutting and pasting a poem is a lot quicker than writing something intelligent.)

As I Walked Out One Evening

As I walked out one evening,
Walking down Bristol Street,
The crowds upon the pavement
Were fields of harvest wheat.

And down by the brimming river
I heard a lover sing
Under an arch of the railway:
'Love has no ending.

'I'll love you, dear, I'll love you
Till China and Africa meet,
And the river jumps over the mountain
And the salmon sing in the street,

'I'll love you till the ocean
Is folded and hung up to dry
And the seven stars go squawking
Like geese about the sky.

'The years shall run like rabbits,
For in my arms I hold
The Flower of the Ages,
And the first love of the world.'

But all the clocks in the city
Began to whirr and chime:
'O let not Time deceive you,
You cannot conquer Time.

'In the burrows of the Nightmare
Where Justice naked is,
Time watches from the shadow
And coughs when you would kiss.

'In headaches and in worry
Vaguely life leaks away,
And Time will have his fancy
To-morrow or to-day.

'Into many a green valley
Drifts the appalling snow;
Time breaks the threaded dances
And the diver's brilliant bow.

'O plunge your hands in water,
Plunge them in up to the wrist;
Stare, stare in the basin
And wonder what you've missed.

'The glacier knocks in the cupboard,
The desert sighs in the bed,
And the crack in the tea-cup opens
A lane to the land of the dead.

'Where the beggars raffle the banknotes
And the Giant is enchanting to Jack,
And the Lily-white Boy is a Roarer,
And Jill goes down on her back.

'O look, look in the mirror,
O look in your distress:
Life remains a blessing
Although you cannot bless.

'O stand, stand at the window
As the tears scald and start;
You shall love your crooked neighbour
With your crooked heart.'

It was late, late in the evening,
The lovers they were gone;
The clocks had ceased their chiming,
And the deep river ran on.

--W. H. Auden

Sunday, March 30, 2003

 
Disturbing

Somebody came to my blog after searching for "teenage girls looking for much older dominant men for marriage." A quick search confirms that my blog is indeed the seventh google hit for this particular search. Wow.
 
Matt has responded to my post on corporations, and Will has responded to my post on One Hour Photo. Also, I've updated my post on Lawrence v. Texas.

Blogging will be light for the next couple of weeks will be light since my BA is due April 11th. This is less than two weeks away and I am moving into full panic mode.

Musings on a transient world.

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