Wednesday, May 26, 2010

The Art of Falling

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Nausicaa 345

Her soul found night in this sickness
Straining in arms and such yearning she
Snatched love from some lost daydream
Where parties in mirrors take place in the little day
Where voices flecked with strange grayness
Cry at meetings of heaven ending
Pale and expensive
Trimmed with this sad light
Put luck aside along with all the
Old becauses and understand this vain strength
Deep for asking
Call your thinking shelter
Call it night

It’s a beautiful day
Here in the valley of the wind!

1 comment:

Richard Ewing said...

Good LORD! That's frightening! I'd lean away towards escape as well -but obviously she's sitting on his coat tail... quite a quandary for the poor fellow.
Nice complementary expressions.