Thursday, February 02, 2006

A Bloggers' [Silent] Poetry Reading

With thanks to the literary doyenne at Grace's Poppies for organizing a great e-vent. Here's my favourite sonnet.

what time is it?it is by every star
a different time,and each most falsely true;

or so subhuman superminds declare
--nor all their times encompass me and you:
when are we never,but forever now
(hosts of eternity;not guests of seem)
believe me,dear,clocks have enough to do
without confusing timelessness and time.

Time cannot children,poets,lovers tell --
measure imagine,mystery,a kiss

--not though mankind would rather know than feel;
mistrusting utterly that timelessness
whose absence would make your whole life and my
(and infinite our) merely to undie

e.e. cummings

It's a perfect poem, if you ask me -- I have a different favourite line every time I read it (today I have two: 7&8), and I love the tension between the idea of timelessness and the tick of the sonnet form.

In other news, I'm Florence Nightingaling myself through a mean as hell hangover today -- the inevitable aftermath of a raucous night out with The Great Man (a former client from my pharma training
days [yeah, I used to teach people to sell drugs]). The GM gets his name from his ability to go on several benders a week and still arrive at the next day's meeting/conference/sockhop with clear eyes and a perfectly pressed shirt...even though he's usually nineteen time zones ahead of or behind his GMT internal clock (speaking of clocks). He's an inspiration and I think maybe a force for evil. At the start of the evening I explained that I would not be drinking to excess, but one bottle led to another and today I've managed to bathe, dress, feed myself, and not much else. The good news is that I hid the phone in the piano bench before I went out, so there was no drinking-and-dialling misdemeanours at the end of the night. Love the GM, but it's good that he's only in town a few times a year.

Good thing it's not a work day here at OY. I'm working up the energy to knit a few rows -- the fetching Brown Sheep in the photo is on the needles and becoming a Teva Durham corrugated v-neck, and I'm motoring along on the second half of the Annie Modessitt Falling Leaves scarf, which I am renaming Romin' Snake Scarf, because I work on it while eating up I Claudius episodes. The credits start with a nasty looking asp [?] slithering over a mosaic. Here's the completed first half of the Snake:

Isn't it evil looking? And yet in a soft, wrap-around-your-neck sort of way.


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