giraffes are this desire in the dark
Boss is back from her travels, which means today will be busy, so I am sneaking in to post the last poem of the month. There will still be poetry sometimes, just not every day, until next April.
Hope you all enjoyed it as much as I did (except for the people I know didn't).
Today's poem:
The Forgotten Dialect of the Heart
How astonishing it is that language can almost mean,
and frightening that it does not quite. Love, we say,
God, we say, Rome and Michiko, we write, and the words
get it all wrong. We say bread and it means according
to which nation. French has no word for home,
and we have no word for strict pleasure. A people
in northern India is dying out because their ancient
tongue has no words for endearment. I dream of lost
vocabularies that might express some of what
we no longer can. Maybe the Etruscan texts would
finally explain why the couples on their tombs
are smiling. And maybe not. When the thousands
of mysterious Sumerian tablets were translated,
they seemed to be business records. But what if they
are poems or psalms? My joy is the same as twelve
Ethiopian goats standing silent in the morning light.
O Lord, thou art slabs of salt and ingots of copper,
as grand as ripe barley lithe under the wind's labor.
Her breasts are six white oxen loaded with bolts
of long-fibered Egyptian cotton. My love is a hundred
pitchers of honey. Shiploads of thuya are what
my body wants to say to your body. Giraffes are this
desire in the dark. Perhaps the spiral Minoan script
is not language but a map. What we feel most has
no name but amber, archers, cinnamon, horses, and birds.
~Jack Gilbert
I love this poem, and after reading that Calvin & Hobbes story I recced yesterday, I will think of Calvin and Susie at the line "Giraffes are this desire in the dark."
***
I'd hoped to have fic to post last night, but that did not happen, as instead I watched three episodes of Criminal Minds, including the new one that was on CBS. It's very weird watching with commercials.
Mostly what I've got so far is that Garcia is awesome, no one can ever outrun Morgan (not that I wouldn't mind be chased down and pushed up against a wall by him *ahem*), Reid is geeky and sweet (though I am still not interested in reading about him having sex), and Gideon is hilarious. For a procedural, it does some good character work.
I went looking for icons last night, and I had to laugh at my own irrationality, because the person I snagged them from also does NCIS icons, and I can't help it, I still want to stab Michael Weatherly in the face. I can't watch that show because of him. I am generally not so vehement about things, but then again, I am still holding "Silver Spoons" against Jason Bateman and that was, what? almost thirty years ago?
*facepalm*
***
I am wearing the last of my new suits today. I think I mentioned that I'd ordered a suit from Lane Bryant - well, a jacket and matching trousers - and since they changed to their ridiculous new sizing system, I had no idea what size I was, and the trousers were basically twice the size I needed. I was finally able to figure out my size, and get a pair that almost (but not quite) matches the jacket exactly, but I am still annoyed, because I ordered a petite, and yet I still have to wear my boots with the 2.5" heel in order to not be walking on the hems of these trousers.
Seriously, people, a pair of petite trousers should not be TOO LONG on someone who is 5'3. And this is not the first time this has happened. The WHOLE POINT of ordering something in PETITE is that it is for SHORT PEOPLE. I don't want to have to spend money on getting these trousers hemmed! WTF? Why is this so hard?
***
In other news, I was amused this morning when my iPod played "Infected" by The The, and then, a few songs later, "Shake the Disease" by Depeche Mode. I'm sure I have that plague song by Imogen Heap on there, too, so I'm waiting for that to come up. We all know my iPod knows things. *snerk*
***
SHOW tonight! Though my squee is not undiluted, given that it looks to be a Castiel-heavy episode (or, you know, sort of). I will settle for not wanting to set him on fire the whole time, I guess. I am enjoying the season SO MUCH except for that one fly in the ointment. Sigh.
***
Let's go out on an AWESOME note: via slodwick:
Henson's Eleven
Everything is better with Muppets, yo.
***
Hope you all enjoyed it as much as I did (except for the people I know didn't).
Today's poem:
The Forgotten Dialect of the Heart
How astonishing it is that language can almost mean,
and frightening that it does not quite. Love, we say,
God, we say, Rome and Michiko, we write, and the words
get it all wrong. We say bread and it means according
to which nation. French has no word for home,
and we have no word for strict pleasure. A people
in northern India is dying out because their ancient
tongue has no words for endearment. I dream of lost
vocabularies that might express some of what
we no longer can. Maybe the Etruscan texts would
finally explain why the couples on their tombs
are smiling. And maybe not. When the thousands
of mysterious Sumerian tablets were translated,
they seemed to be business records. But what if they
are poems or psalms? My joy is the same as twelve
Ethiopian goats standing silent in the morning light.
O Lord, thou art slabs of salt and ingots of copper,
as grand as ripe barley lithe under the wind's labor.
Her breasts are six white oxen loaded with bolts
of long-fibered Egyptian cotton. My love is a hundred
pitchers of honey. Shiploads of thuya are what
my body wants to say to your body. Giraffes are this
desire in the dark. Perhaps the spiral Minoan script
is not language but a map. What we feel most has
no name but amber, archers, cinnamon, horses, and birds.
~Jack Gilbert
I love this poem, and after reading that Calvin & Hobbes story I recced yesterday, I will think of Calvin and Susie at the line "Giraffes are this desire in the dark."
***
I'd hoped to have fic to post last night, but that did not happen, as instead I watched three episodes of Criminal Minds, including the new one that was on CBS. It's very weird watching with commercials.
Mostly what I've got so far is that Garcia is awesome, no one can ever outrun Morgan (not that I wouldn't mind be chased down and pushed up against a wall by him *ahem*), Reid is geeky and sweet (though I am still not interested in reading about him having sex), and Gideon is hilarious. For a procedural, it does some good character work.
I went looking for icons last night, and I had to laugh at my own irrationality, because the person I snagged them from also does NCIS icons, and I can't help it, I still want to stab Michael Weatherly in the face. I can't watch that show because of him. I am generally not so vehement about things, but then again, I am still holding "Silver Spoons" against Jason Bateman and that was, what? almost thirty years ago?
*facepalm*
***
I am wearing the last of my new suits today. I think I mentioned that I'd ordered a suit from Lane Bryant - well, a jacket and matching trousers - and since they changed to their ridiculous new sizing system, I had no idea what size I was, and the trousers were basically twice the size I needed. I was finally able to figure out my size, and get a pair that almost (but not quite) matches the jacket exactly, but I am still annoyed, because I ordered a petite, and yet I still have to wear my boots with the 2.5" heel in order to not be walking on the hems of these trousers.
Seriously, people, a pair of petite trousers should not be TOO LONG on someone who is 5'3. And this is not the first time this has happened. The WHOLE POINT of ordering something in PETITE is that it is for SHORT PEOPLE. I don't want to have to spend money on getting these trousers hemmed! WTF? Why is this so hard?
***
In other news, I was amused this morning when my iPod played "Infected" by The The, and then, a few songs later, "Shake the Disease" by Depeche Mode. I'm sure I have that plague song by Imogen Heap on there, too, so I'm waiting for that to come up. We all know my iPod knows things. *snerk*
***
SHOW tonight! Though my squee is not undiluted, given that it looks to be a Castiel-heavy episode (or, you know, sort of). I will settle for not wanting to set him on fire the whole time, I guess. I am enjoying the season SO MUCH except for that one fly in the ointment. Sigh.
***
Let's go out on an AWESOME note: via slodwick:
Henson's Eleven
Everything is better with Muppets, yo.
***