The Wanlorn (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
the_wanlorn) wrote2010-04-03 11:42 am
the_wanlorn) wrote2010-04-03 11:42 am
Elizabeth Bishop, "Sandpiper"
Every time I open Semagic to make a post, I feel guilty, because I have all this shit I want to say about this book that I am reading that I store in here except I can't say it until I finish the book (I KNOW. ON THE TOPIC OF CRAZY THINGS I DO: I have managed to convince myself that if I don't end my braid with the shortest third of hair in between the two longer thirds the entire world will end and it will be all my fault so I have to carefully make sure I stop braiding while my hair looks like |i| and not i|| or ||i and every time I am like "self this is ridiculous" and try to leave it like one of the last two and then end up undoing the braid and rebraiding it so that the short bit is in the middle again.) so it's just sitting here in Semagic glaring at me because instead of finishing the book I am backreading some person's lolzy blog. NICE SELF.
Anyway, today is going to be a productive day! I am going to go to the grocery store, and then I am going to do work, and then I am going to finish this book! THAT IS EVERYTHING I AM GOING TO DO TODAY AND I AM CERTAINLY NOT GOING TO FAFF ABOUT ON THE INTERNET ALL DAY LIKE I USUALLY DO ON SATURDAYS (note: this is probably a lie). Maybe I will also try to plot out this zombie apocalypse fic. That could be fun!
Also, Tumblr ate one of my queued posts yesterday instead of posting it, and I have no idea what it was, except that A) it was an image, and B) my commentary on said image was "♥". LET ME TELL YOU, THAT IS SUPER UNHELPFUL, BECAUSE THAT IS HOW I FEEL ABOUT 90% OF THE IMAGES ON MY COMPUTER. In any case, even though I have scoured the Picture folders on both my laptop and my external, I have not been able to figure out what it was. This is mildly distressing.
(ALSO (I keep coming back to add stuff to this post wtf) IT WAS WICKED HOT OUT YESTERDAY WHICH MEANS SUMMER IS ACTUALLY COMING WHICH MEANS FARMER'S MARKETS WHICH MEANS DELICIOUS, DELICIOUS FOOD FUCK YEAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH I am excited and I wish that there were farmer's markets in the winter because then winter would be PERFECT and not just SUPER GREATER THAN SUMMER BUT NOT QUITE PERFECT. And man, I am kind of regretting not getting a goat share this summer even though I didn't because I haaaaaaaaaaaate the new assistant director/farm manager. MY LIFE; SO HARD ;___;)
Sandpiper
by Elizabeth Bishop
The roaring alongside he takes for granted,
and that every so often the world is bound to shake.
He runs, he runs to the south, finical, awkward,
in a state of controlled panic, a student of Blake.
The beach hisses like fat. On his left, a sheet
of interrupting water comes and goes
and glazes over his dark and brittle feet.
He runs, he runs straight through it, watching his toes.
- Watching, rather, the spaces of sand between them
where (no detail too small) the Atlantic drains
rapidly backwards and downwards. As he runs,
he stares at the dragging grains.
The world is a mist. And then the world is
minute and vast and clear. The tide
is higher or lower. He couldn't tell you which.
His beak is focussed; he is preoccupied,
looking for something, something, something.
Poor bird, he is obsessed!
The millions of grains are black, white, tan, and gray
mixed with quartz grains, rose and amethyst.
Anyway, today is going to be a productive day! I am going to go to the grocery store, and then I am going to do work, and then I am going to finish this book! THAT IS EVERYTHING I AM GOING TO DO TODAY AND I AM CERTAINLY NOT GOING TO FAFF ABOUT ON THE INTERNET ALL DAY LIKE I USUALLY DO ON SATURDAYS (note: this is probably a lie). Maybe I will also try to plot out this zombie apocalypse fic. That could be fun!
Also, Tumblr ate one of my queued posts yesterday instead of posting it, and I have no idea what it was, except that A) it was an image, and B) my commentary on said image was "♥". LET ME TELL YOU, THAT IS SUPER UNHELPFUL, BECAUSE THAT IS HOW I FEEL ABOUT 90% OF THE IMAGES ON MY COMPUTER. In any case, even though I have scoured the Picture folders on both my laptop and my external, I have not been able to figure out what it was. This is mildly distressing.
(ALSO (I keep coming back to add stuff to this post wtf) IT WAS WICKED HOT OUT YESTERDAY WHICH MEANS SUMMER IS ACTUALLY COMING WHICH MEANS FARMER'S MARKETS WHICH MEANS DELICIOUS, DELICIOUS FOOD FUCK YEAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH I am excited and I wish that there were farmer's markets in the winter because then winter would be PERFECT and not just SUPER GREATER THAN SUMMER BUT NOT QUITE PERFECT. And man, I am kind of regretting not getting a goat share this summer even though I didn't because I haaaaaaaaaaaate the new assistant director/farm manager. MY LIFE; SO HARD ;___;)
Sandpiper
by Elizabeth Bishop
The roaring alongside he takes for granted,
and that every so often the world is bound to shake.
He runs, he runs to the south, finical, awkward,
in a state of controlled panic, a student of Blake.
The beach hisses like fat. On his left, a sheet
of interrupting water comes and goes
and glazes over his dark and brittle feet.
He runs, he runs straight through it, watching his toes.
- Watching, rather, the spaces of sand between them
where (no detail too small) the Atlantic drains
rapidly backwards and downwards. As he runs,
he stares at the dragging grains.
The world is a mist. And then the world is
minute and vast and clear. The tide
is higher or lower. He couldn't tell you which.
His beak is focussed; he is preoccupied,
looking for something, something, something.
Poor bird, he is obsessed!
The millions of grains are black, white, tan, and gray
mixed with quartz grains, rose and amethyst.