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Lelle
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read my profile
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Name: Kate
Country: France
Metro: Paris
Birthday: 1/1/1988
Gender: Female
Interests: reading, writing, politics, free thought, cities, fashion, wine, art, walking, traveling, conversation, beer, learning, cooking, serendipity
Expertise: arguing, public speaking, rhetoric, seduction
Occupation: optimist, student
Industry: life
Message: message meEmail: email me
Website: visit my website
AIM:  ktbeebop
Member Since:
11/2/2003
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| e.e. cummings - If you can't eat you got to
If you can't eat you got to
smoke and we aint got
nothing to smoke:come on kid
let's go to sleep
if you can't smoke you got to
Sing and we aint got
nothing to sing;come on kid
let's go to sleep
if you can't sing you got to
die and we aint got
Nothing to die,come on kid
let's go to sleep
if you can't die you got to
dream and we aint got
nothing to dream(come on kid
Let's go to sleep)
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And somewhere along the line, the thread broke.
pooled
into worm lines,
condensed distress sound waves looped, looped, pooled
and the humming mechanical noises that rolled, rolled
humming human rhythms of doubt, that high pitched wwwhhiirrrrrrrrrrrrrrr
the thread, Tangled by greater natural forces than itself,
flattened, pooled, and the humming!
walking by, no one noticed a thing.
gravity, that sort this gravity.
taken for granted by humanity, degraded into a question
akin to a tri-town's best place to buy weed
sanity, that brand of insanity
(all the questions ever worth asking are those you learn to forget)
and ribbons, ribbons of heart pump matter FLUSH out into thread, thread
pooled, polled and rolled, oh gravity
scaled for it's background, you see, earth captivity, life size (relevant)
against a tile and infinitesimal against the Tuilerie.
I ONLY ASK YOU TO PLACE YOURSELF
why do you insist upon the impossible task of fortune telling, this that works works NOT
how do you imagine that
I can imagine that
AND TO BE HUMANLY CAREFUL IN YOUR LAZY ABSOLUTISM
and to take of the consequences, to take
responsibility. and it would only take a word, but you test me
thread, pooled, rolled,
and wait for my conviction
a man, but yet, unable to take responsibility
for the weight words
get with
gravity
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| callas lover
BY D.A. POWELL
this is the track I've had on REPEAT all afternoon: she is butterfly
brilliant riband, rice flour face, silken, even her voice a sashed kimono
if I were foolish like her:
but aren't I foolish like her
spotting the coil of smoke and the billowed sail
against the verge of sky
simple on the rise surveying the anchorage: simple me, signal me
dreading the confident assumption of return, dreading more
uncertain tone to come, the thinning notes, performance
too close to my own impatient—swells, a surge: sick wind
but the emotion is, after all, an artfully conjured gesture
arranged marriage between a past ache and frail woodwinds
I could skip ahead
could break the inconsolable loop
of harbor, waiting, overlook, waiting, inevitable waning eye
troubled robins, once more in the handkerchief trees
once more, brief aquarelle of triplet lilies, blue as willowware
in that interval before his embrace falters, stuck, founders
[shuffle play] such a pitch of tenderness in the voice
such an awful lot of noise
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| "you're already in that circle, of you know, girls who need to prostitute themselves to live somewhere."
ouch.
I believe this is a new record; I am called fat(?) and a whore within one week by the same person.
Loud and clear, amigo. Kutz signing OUT. | | |
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