Certain kinds of knowledge rob people of their sleep.
– Haruki Murakami, 1Q84
a blog of found things: words, art, photography, disappointment & hope
Certain kinds of knowledge rob people of their sleep.
– Haruki Murakami, 1Q84
How do I make myself full again? she asked. You turn to the moon, and you let it devour you, he answered.
– Fragment 16
Not with a club, the Heart is broken,
Nor with a stone;
A whip, so small you could not see it,
I’ve known
To lash the Magic Creature
Till it fell,
Yet that Whip’s Name
too noble then to tell.
– Emily Dickinson from 1304
Be careful of words,
even the miraculous ones.
For the miraculous we do our best,
sometimes they swarm like insects
and leave not a sting but a kiss.
They can be as good as fingers.
They can be as trusty as the rock
you stick your bottom on.
But they can be both daisies and bruises.
Yet I am in love with words.
They are doves falling out of the ceiling.
They are six holy oranges sitting in my lap.
They are the trees, the legs of summer,
and the sun, its passionate face.
Yet often they fail me.
I have so much I want to say,
so many stories, images, proverbs, etc.
But the words aren’t good enough,
the wrong ones kiss me.
Sometimes I fly like an eagle
but with the wings of a wren.
But I try to take care
and be gentle to them.
Words and eggs must be handled with care.
Once broken they are impossible
things to repair.
– Anne Sexton