Medium Rare
After a morale-crushing session with Enoch, I suppressed the frustrations (somewhat) by distracting myself in school and then meeting up with PZ to watch a lousy movie. It didn't last.
As soon as I reached home, I grabbed the nearest collection within reach and flipped randomly to a poem, a vain attempt to try and justify why I should be ready, why half of my manuscript shouldn't be trashed so flippantly.
The Taste Of Hours
Tonight the husk of depression
rebels against the dark's philanthropy.
Nothing floats away.
This action might be enough,
that one too difficult---
but the high horse has no stirrups
the flank slippery.
See how I walk down the hall
and disappear? How I sleep
in a room of lost garments?
Before the fist in my breast relaxes
what do the lungs demand?
What catches in the trees
when a storm sways through the branches?
Nothing floats away.
Mothers notice their children
invisible a moment before.
I won't be seduced by the taste of hours
but by you, weighing my body down
tenderness piercing bone
where trust lets the nerve through.
- Jennifer Harrison, "Folly & Grief"
---
I think in local vernacular, this is a moment most aptly described as "tio pwned".
---
As soon as I reached home, I grabbed the nearest collection within reach and flipped randomly to a poem, a vain attempt to try and justify why I should be ready, why half of my manuscript shouldn't be trashed so flippantly.
The Taste Of Hours
Tonight the husk of depression
rebels against the dark's philanthropy.
Nothing floats away.
This action might be enough,
that one too difficult---
but the high horse has no stirrups
the flank slippery.
See how I walk down the hall
and disappear? How I sleep
in a room of lost garments?
Before the fist in my breast relaxes
what do the lungs demand?
What catches in the trees
when a storm sways through the branches?
Nothing floats away.
Mothers notice their children
invisible a moment before.
I won't be seduced by the taste of hours
but by you, weighing my body down
tenderness piercing bone
where trust lets the nerve through.
- Jennifer Harrison, "Folly & Grief"
---
I think in local vernacular, this is a moment most aptly described as "tio pwned".
---