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Blur - De File — LiveJournal
Does Collecting Make You Feel Dirty?
The poem won't come.
I stare at my canvas, a real
Lily Briscoe. That pattern,
this pause: I can picture it
all. Not at once, surely,
but always with a sense
of the whole, each bit beginning
a colorless blur in the corner
of my eye, like a threat you
feel more than see. It's not
worth making real.

Mode: trying
Muse: Straight Street - The Fiery Furnaces - Blueberry Boat

4 comments or Leave a comment
commonalgebra From: commonalgebra Date: March 23rd, 2005 06:46 pm (UTC) (LINK TO SPECIFIC ENTRY)

the table in the pear tree

oh, Lily Briscoe! yea! she lives in my mind often...

It was fabulous to see your lyrical thoughts!!!!
cbertsch From: cbertsch Date: March 23rd, 2005 09:17 pm (UTC) (LINK TO SPECIFIC ENTRY)

Re: the table in the pear tree

Thanks. This is what I wrote in lieu of what I sat down to write. Funny. I always love reading your poems.
frostedfuckhead From: frostedfuckhead Date: March 25th, 2005 12:15 am (UTC) (LINK TO SPECIFIC ENTRY)

nice 1

i like it charlie. i think everyone who calls themselves a writer has to write a few of these in their time. giving birth to an idea with words is as daunting a task as any i've encountered... ever. it is certainly worthy of words itself.

the word 'blur' triggered a memory of one of my favorite lines in poetry:

Larkin, speaking of death in "Aubade"

And so it stays just on the edge of vision,
A small unfocused blur, a standing chill
That slows each impulse down to indecision.

mmm. tasty.

Are you ready for the big games tonight? I can't fucking wait man!

elizabeg From: elizabeg Date: March 25th, 2005 04:08 pm (UTC) (LINK TO SPECIFIC ENTRY)
Would have mentioned I love this but was too well paper-zoned at too late an evening to say anything too worthy. Like how this morning the final exams are weighing too heavy against the thought of my parents in town. Maybe I'll take Virginia Woolf to NYC...
4 comments or Leave a comment