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ceruseeI totally almost forgot there for a minute because I had a paper due today and was rushing to finish it. Speaking of rushing,
The rush of rain against the glass
Is the only the damn thing I've been listening to all week. Man, it was been wet up here. It rained for like seventy-two straight hours or some shit, sometimes sideways. There has been fucking wind. What good is it for the sun not to set at 4:30pm if you don't get to see it all day anyway? What happened to my fucking springtime? The precious little snowdrops have probably all drowned.
Yeah, April is National Poetry Month! Since I always type that with an exclamation point, I've come to expect it, and I get weirded out when I see signs at the bookstore that don't have one. I'm like, yo, be more excited, y'all! National! Poetry! Month! April! is the cruelest month! It rains a lot!
But I know you just want me to post a goddamn poem (something not about rain) and shut up. So, here. I'm really into Conrad Aiken right now and will probably be a lazy ass and do a lot of that this month. Enjoy. Enjoy this poem by Conrad Aiken (that is not about rain).
Excerpt from "The Coming Forth by Day of Osiris Jones,"
Various Rooms:
A room in a school hospital:
so the three caravels to westward veiling
foamworthy frows and able seamen seething
southward in soft altlantic saw you sinking
depe depe and deeper darkly drown and drown
drenched and despatched and drunk with more than ether
ceiling concentric to a funnel flaring
sounds of wide froth and sea-surge softly hearing
whispers of space and time and nothing caring
the silver bubbles blinkt and you an oyster
dark smells of oakum, far above three shadows
Columbus gone, America discovered
down drown down drown down drown and you too soon
for what you know already and forget
put up your hands and touch the keels Columbus
See? Totally not about rain.
The rush of rain against the glass
Is the only the damn thing I've been listening to all week. Man, it was been wet up here. It rained for like seventy-two straight hours or some shit, sometimes sideways. There has been fucking wind. What good is it for the sun not to set at 4:30pm if you don't get to see it all day anyway? What happened to my fucking springtime? The precious little snowdrops have probably all drowned.
Yeah, April is National Poetry Month! Since I always type that with an exclamation point, I've come to expect it, and I get weirded out when I see signs at the bookstore that don't have one. I'm like, yo, be more excited, y'all! National! Poetry! Month! April! is the cruelest month! It rains a lot!
But I know you just want me to post a goddamn poem (something not about rain) and shut up. So, here. I'm really into Conrad Aiken right now and will probably be a lazy ass and do a lot of that this month. Enjoy. Enjoy this poem by Conrad Aiken (that is not about rain).
Excerpt from "The Coming Forth by Day of Osiris Jones,"
Various Rooms:
A room in a school hospital:
so the three caravels to westward veiling
foamworthy frows and able seamen seething
southward in soft altlantic saw you sinking
depe depe and deeper darkly drown and drown
drenched and despatched and drunk with more than ether
ceiling concentric to a funnel flaring
sounds of wide froth and sea-surge softly hearing
whispers of space and time and nothing caring
the silver bubbles blinkt and you an oyster
dark smells of oakum, far above three shadows
Columbus gone, America discovered
down drown down drown down drown and you too soon
for what you know already and forget
put up your hands and touch the keels Columbus
See? Totally not about rain.