.―. i accidentally bememèd myself;

...

el )
notyourbroom: (confuse a cat)
[livejournal.com profile] dangerpronered has increased the He concentration on my infopage by about eight thousand percent. huh.

also, a something rolled off my fingers, though it's awfully short-
I lost a lullaby today -
I slept him on a string -
When summer's wingtips wound down low,
He oped his eyes - to sing -

Such shrill contentment fluttered forth -
the lunar rhymes of dawning -
I curled and closed, and when I woke,
the songlorn thread lay, waning -
so also, I would appreciate a nap. I should study strong verb classes, though. If I don't know something well enough to make bad puns about it, then I don't really know it very well at all, now do I? Eh?. rr.
ach. after a combined ~8 hours of sleep between last night and this past nap, I still feel like the corpse of overexuberant surfs spread to lie across dry, sucking sands-- spread thin, too salty, and seeping ever down. three cheers for wednesday. or maybe four. i forget.
You say that castle's called a citadel?

I think I might have stepped on someone's toe.
Oh, look! I never noticed that before!
Does law school ever pay for you to go?

You dropped your... )
some items from the latest 'Community Events' e-mail )



It's warm and puffy and silkspread outside. I watched some sun advance, some ice receed, followed some geese, held a plant, listened to various honks, squawks, and chitters, and generally tasted a time. The sands were sated; stones look bright and covetful when they're underwater and underïce and underwater again. (such precision. I let them lie.) Groggy greenwhiskers rise gradually from birthmud, suckling sunlight like piglets. Snow might make them sleep again.

Air feels clear-- not as scrubbed and presentful, but as well-crystalled, wordless, and subtle. such a season this tries to be, but my brain is a roiling lampshade. these red-taped senses strive against experience; they have to be softened and allowed to bloom, lest the blind bee sting the very root of its nourishment.

[Language of the Week]-day is today in [Introduction to Germanic Linguistics]. I'm excited ^^;.
Such quailing, sparrow-seed!
Thin limbs stretch long and lashy.
The shardwaters shed their shapes.

Who woke this wlitsæd winter?
hey, that was a day. i've heard about those.

..

just kidding
Well
I'd been looking forward to that- the FCAHS winter choral concert-

there were awkward bits,
(as Awkward sticks to me like rice to a draggy lobster,)
but i knew people, and people knew me, and they were nice about it.

and there was some Palestrina :D
imitative polyphony pretty much for the win.
no wonder there are so many italians.
i doublecrossed most of my non-linguistics-related books today. i mean. sold them. into slavery. $57. that doesn't feel lime terribly so much. i meant to say 'like'. almost makes me regret having done so.

prok is a cool typo. were i a pig, i would be proud to be turned into prok.

who knows where wind goes? i shall be
a tumbleweed and skip along the plain.

someday. (oh.)

fangèd socks fit bricks as sailing fists
catch the next glade soups:
there are bogs to peel.
remind 'em slowly.
ahhhnn.
toothpicks precise
as snakes in a garden.

that's what music feels like today.
and if you take a moment to wring the tactile sense of those words,
i think you'll know what i mean.
fangèd frost nips slick as a sinking ship.
fetch your sketch-blade boots;
there is work to be done,
and i am lonely.
notyourbroom: (confuse a cat)
I ornament my spiny words with glitterly lipgloss and tart sound
because I far over-value written communication (in opposition to 'real' communication,
an arena for which my tongue rolls slovenly and vapid;)

while the liquor-scented, fashionable makeup-corpse
(who hops from party to party like a strong, scalded frog)
applies instead all its aesthetic heightening to its own visage --

and treats words as small, darting puppies,
droolingly digging bones in the social meadow.

puppies with ribbons and noises burned on them just get tangly and sorrowful, yes?
yes? yes. unfit for digging, unfit to fetch; fold them--
the ears grow too clever.
notyourbroom: (omgwtfbbqcoffee)
I IMPLORE YOU

Connect the Gummy Firetruck!-
(That Mattress of the Mind!)
Refine the Kinder Wocka-wuck
to Ptolemize the Blind!

Sew the Shut Horizon up!-
(Consult me if you must!)
Never ask a Tire Nut
to Find a Finer Bust!

Mold a Calmer Kitten cup!-
(The First one Is Too Loud!)
Hail me with an Angry Duck
enFeathered!, Bristled!, Proud!

Quiet Down your Kobbalop!-
(The Neighbors will Complain!)
Quickly!, Coffee!, Order Up
the Side of Cloud and Rain!

Put the Crisp Clairvoyant down!-
(He Sees us when we Frown!)
Don your Dismal Dressing-gown
or Send it Back to Town!

[-]


what )
The Grasses Cry Defiance -
Their shriek enShocks the spine -

New Bliss -
Bladeless -

Quetzalcoatl Caught Alive! -
Wade the Tide of Ritual
with Beating Heart and Blood! -

Flood the Eye with Images,
Bend the Ear with Sound,
Sanctify the Shivering -
(Writhe Soft upon this ground) -

A chilly, blinded Radiance -
Contortion Come Refined -

the grasses sigh to silence,
And Every Note is Mine.

[-]
CATHERINE AND SEVERN (`49) JOYCE
AND THEIR CHILDREN
INVITE YOU TO REST AND ENJOY THIS GARDEN


The invitation wasn't theirs to give.
"Whose woods these are I think I know" --
(I think you don't) --

my soles whisper

these soles of

simple soles whisper softly, sinking to the garden wall --

the earth conspires, dust and brush,
brush the mealy mind,
a finding of the pudgy warmth that kneads the gent'ler floor -

a tree thinks what you tell it, and tells in time alike -
cool meadows bound with plaintain lily hold
no older lies.

a cloud cries, too -- it's terrible to watch -
turn the eyes inside their lids - reminitently wash -

contrition of a coldly sort,
sort the darks, the whites,

the whites will yield to yellow,
decadence,
and brown,

rounding crisp and
melting, never sought,
nor sightly found.

//

-- till human voices wake us (with a
sicken..mee-klee sound)

We startle-

Lift our eyes
to open

shame,

and, kindly,
drown.
someday,
when once the sun
sinks

in the west,
i shall construct the Library
of Loud, Loud Noises

...

Meet me there.

//



and since I probably should have given elucidation when t'was due,
I'll toss an anchor out to this.

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notyourbroom

September 2008

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