Thursday, June 04, 2009
better prose

after my previous nonsensical one, this is a beautiful one from the tudors:

softly love and to love softly
dew on the sycamore branch
by the creaking gate
where my heart hurries afterwards
through the path of wheat along the briar
to that stone under which I lie

---

u know ur old...

when half an hrs' run makes ur bones creak
when ppl approach u to sign up for credit cards on the street
when memories flash by, at so many things that u meet
when u start to question ur life, and everything that u seek