for the one who is the sea
Reaper
Huh. That was. Huh. They came back from a nine month hiatus with that? *shakes head* Whatever, show.
***
I have to be at work tomorrow at 7:45 for a meeting. Yay?
***
I reposted my spnflashfic five things story this morning:
I could write a book
Supernatural; Sam/Dean; adult; vague spoilers through 4.14; 1,460 words
"What don't I know about that kid?" Five things Dean knows about Sam.
I suppose it could be considered a companion to Quinquae Viae (five ways Sam knows Dean loves him). Sam's coffee ritual is the same, anyway, just seen from Dean's POV.
***
Have a poem:
Sky-Meaning I
No matter the time or place, I'll always grow for the one who is the sea.
With one thin finger cut in half.
That is why I'm the oldest recipient of your on-again, off-again love.
And that is why I grew up in the desert, with nothing but a single slice of sweet melon.
I've made you into a cure, I've emulated you.
I've torn up some of my poems, and procured new ones.
And if I've passed too quickly from one situation to the next-
Not because of blood, not fatally-but through a kind of companionability,
Now, at last, I'm the strength there is in numbers.
It's just a memory, if I clam up, looking at my finger-stub.
As I open my eyes, you're the sun hung out on the line.
You're a blue child, you're our love
Peering out at me from the middle of a blue warehouse.
~Edip Cansever
(translated by Julia Clare Tillinghast and Richard Tillinghast)
***
Huh. That was. Huh. They came back from a nine month hiatus with that? *shakes head* Whatever, show.
***
I have to be at work tomorrow at 7:45 for a meeting. Yay?
***
I reposted my spnflashfic five things story this morning:
I could write a book
Supernatural; Sam/Dean; adult; vague spoilers through 4.14; 1,460 words
"What don't I know about that kid?" Five things Dean knows about Sam.
I suppose it could be considered a companion to Quinquae Viae (five ways Sam knows Dean loves him). Sam's coffee ritual is the same, anyway, just seen from Dean's POV.
***
Have a poem:
Sky-Meaning I
No matter the time or place, I'll always grow for the one who is the sea.
With one thin finger cut in half.
That is why I'm the oldest recipient of your on-again, off-again love.
And that is why I grew up in the desert, with nothing but a single slice of sweet melon.
I've made you into a cure, I've emulated you.
I've torn up some of my poems, and procured new ones.
And if I've passed too quickly from one situation to the next-
Not because of blood, not fatally-but through a kind of companionability,
Now, at last, I'm the strength there is in numbers.
It's just a memory, if I clam up, looking at my finger-stub.
As I open my eyes, you're the sun hung out on the line.
You're a blue child, you're our love
Peering out at me from the middle of a blue warehouse.
~Edip Cansever
(translated by Julia Clare Tillinghast and Richard Tillinghast)
***