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Hamlet, Act IV Scene VII
Mar. 10th, 2004 01:36 pmThere, on the pendant boughs her coronet weeds
Clambering to hang, an envious sliver broke;
When down her weedy trophies and herself
Fell in the weeping brook. Her clothes spread wide.
In the space of an hour I poured nearly 2,000 into my notebook this morning. My mind seethes with ideas. I am impatient with my weak powers of recall, the way the mind skips from one bend in the river to the next. Long sequences of sensations spiral into the past, eluding my grasp. How does one describe the movement of a flooded stream? Language seems inadequate, yet my mind swells with words.
Our bodies are busy dying. We must breathe, feel and love while we may. The cosmos buds with such magnificence I can hardly bear to blink. Genesis is happening now. How can I turn attention to my little life? Why does my brain so often obscure the vividness and desire I feel today?
( +2 )
Clambering to hang, an envious sliver broke;
When down her weedy trophies and herself
Fell in the weeping brook. Her clothes spread wide.
In the space of an hour I poured nearly 2,000 into my notebook this morning. My mind seethes with ideas. I am impatient with my weak powers of recall, the way the mind skips from one bend in the river to the next. Long sequences of sensations spiral into the past, eluding my grasp. How does one describe the movement of a flooded stream? Language seems inadequate, yet my mind swells with words.
Our bodies are busy dying. We must breathe, feel and love while we may. The cosmos buds with such magnificence I can hardly bear to blink. Genesis is happening now. How can I turn attention to my little life? Why does my brain so often obscure the vividness and desire I feel today?
( +2 )
