the saddest blog that ever was

2.17.2005:

"Metamorphoses (after Ovid)"

there was a feast laid out like stars
last night, at our feet;
the wondrous joys of cutlery.

O to watch the hair strings quiver
flicker like swords of flame thrown high
o'er the house and hills of brooklyn
trusting you warm palm besides
no use to let the dead dogs lie.

in a past life we were quicker
horses yoked to trouble.
nay, we were merely rivers

chanting still that muddled
spell: O lente lente noctis equis
run slowly slowly, horses of the night
trot lightly round the bend of love that fled
and curves and turns to you and i instead.

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
"Of bodies chang'd to various forms, I sing."
Even Ovid carnt compare to such a wondrous wizard of a bear.

Blog // 4:17 AM

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