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January 15, 2005

Shadow Sapphic

"To the person in the bell jar, blank and stopped as a dead baby,
the world itself is the bad dream." Sylvia Plath's The Bell Jar


Might there have been a Salinger in old Yeat's house?

What do we say to "Yeat's lived here" ? Do we call her

from those clear vowels? Hopelessness never dressed like

Sylvia's shadows.


Ariel's nigger-eyed berries, bloody mouthfuls,

rabbit catchers - images darkness cannot

catch, but slowly imitate. Balloons, queer-moons,

dominate every


letter. Clam-like curlicues in her jerky

scribbles that cocoons would be jealous of. Yet

how did she concieve? Of her special shadows,

Agony answered


all her questions. Myopic owls, we blink wide-

eyed into a one-in-a-million bleeding,

repeating, meditation of insult, intuition,

roses, and kisses.


Shadows marry shadows in Sylvia's asylum.

Laboratory jars are the key to learning

pickled poems, dust to those people doctoring

sheets of blank paper.

Posted by tony at 11:11 PM | Comments (1)

January 12, 2005

ANNOUNCEMENT: Josh is Canada bound

You may remember Josh mentioning that he is moving to Canada. Well, folks, the blessed day is nearly upon us. You'll be sitting at Round Table next semester and you'll think, I wonder what Josh is up to, it sure is a lot nicer with him 900 miles away. Ha. Ha. Seriously guys, seriously. I'm moving on the 14th. This Friday. For those of you I saw this last week, thanks, it really means a lot, really. And of course we'll keep in touch. This wacky internet makes it all possible. So good luck next semester and all that. Keep posting!!!

Posted by Josh at 10:02 AM | Comments (0)

January 07, 2005

Expecting

My fingertip is a heartbeat
that drums your own.

Two skips, a hop, and a jump
into a white room.

Bustling and hustling,
blearingly calm - or numb.

Announcement brings you back to light of day
or is that just refraction?

Peering through a looking glass so full of indoor rain
it is leaking warm blue streaks of air.

My fingertip itches the glass at your arrival
as i imagine what it must be like to breathe

for the first. Your sister must know the meaning -
listening to whale-sounds and knocking,

systems of language that only sisters detect,
only sisters suggest, cradling ghost sisters.

Posted by tony at 01:59 AM | Comments (0)