Love’s the boy stood on the burning deck
trying to recite `The boy stood on
the burning deck.’ Love’s the son
stood stammering elocution
while the poor ship in flames went down.
Love’s the obstinate boy, the ship,
even the swimming sailors, who
would like a schoolroom platform, too,
or an excuse to stay
on deck. And love’s the burning boy.
- ‘Casabianca’ by Elizabeth Bishop
this morning consists of:
army ant death spirals / truffle dogs / kyriarchies / qvc / sofa-nests / food which does not require crockery / zombie art prints / synth-pop three-pieces / new journals.
… One day I will have hand-drawn birds on my ceiling and my list of People I Need To Remember Not To Bother With My Awful Emotions will be useless.