Prosody 101

When they taught me that what mattered most
was not the strict iambic line goose-stepping
over the page but the variations
in that line and the tension produced
on the ear by the surprise of difference,
I understood yet didn't understand
exactly, until just now, years later
in spring, with the trees already lacy
and camellias blowsy with middle age,
I looked out and saw what a cold front had done
to the garden, sweeping in like common language,
unexpected in the sensuous
extravagance of a Maryland spring.
There was a dark edge around each flower
as if it had been outlined in ink
instead of frost, and the tension I felt
between the expected and actual
was like that time I came to you, ready
to say goodbye for good, for you had been
a cold front yourself lately, and as I walked in
you laughed and lifted me up in your arms
as if I too were lacy with spring
instead of middle aged like the camellias,
and I thought: so this is Poetry!

Linda Pastan

i need to start studying much harder, i woke up this morning realizing there was only a month left and it scared the hell out of me.

last night was very bizarre. spent the whole day clearing my inbox because i kept letting it go til i accumulated 1400+ msgs at a shot. i wish i was one of those people who could just press 'delete' for the whole folder, but the fact is i like to hang on to stuff inevitably has changed - an sms from a person a few months back reflects a totally different relationship from an sms from that very same person now. why do i seem to be the only one stuck in reverse? gah, technology. i didn't think i would allow myself to get into something like this after last year's fiasco. i hate feeling this way, maybe this is just a phase, maybe it's some weird A Level disorder which makes people unusually pensive and wistful. yes i think it's just a phase.

'no. only you.'

+ posted by M @ 12:27 PM