Monday, January 09, 2006
I Have A New Book Of Poetry.
And I'm convinced its magical, somehow.
It has gold leaf doodle-esque illustrations on each page.
It had the illustration to one of my favorite poems on the cover, The Owl and the Pussycat, which is funny on more than one level.
If I planted the book in the dirt, it would grow a tree who's fruit was actually small animal figurines, I think.
But I'm not sure I'll try that. Yet.



Who knows if the moon's
a balloon, coming out of a keen city
in the sky - filled with pretty people?
(and if you and I should

get into it, if they
should take me and take you into their balloon,
Why then
We'd go up higher with all the pretty people

Than houses and steeples and clouds:
go sailing
away and away sailing into a keen
city which nobody's ever visited, where

always
it's
Spring) and everybody's
in love and flowers pick themselves.
- ee cummings




A man said to the universe:
"Sir, I exist!""However," replied the universe,
"The fact has not created in me
A sense of obligation."
-Stephen Crane





The owl and the pussycat went to sea
In a beautiful pea-green boat,
And they took some honey and plenty of money,
Wrapped up in a five pound note.
The owl looked up to the stars above
And sang to a small guitar,
"Oh lovely Pussy! Oh Pussy, my love
What a beautiful Pussy you are,
You are,
You are!
What a beautiful Pussy you are!"

Pussy said to the Owl, "You elegant fowl!
How charmingly sweet you sing!
Oh let us be married! Too long we have tarried:
But what shall we do for a ring?"
They sailed away for a year and a day,
To the land where the Bong-tree grows,
And there in a wood a Piggy-wig stood,
With a ring at the end of his nose,
His nose,
His nose,
With a ring at the end of his nose.

"Dear Pig, are you willing to sell for one shilling
Your ring?" Said the Piggy, "I will."
So the took it away and married next day
By the Turkey who lives on the hill.
They dined on mince and slices of quince,
Which they ate with a runcible spoon;
And hand in hand, on the edge of the sand,
They danced by the light of the moon,
The moon,
The moon,
The danced by the light of the moon.
-Edward Lear




I give you the end of a golden string:
Only wind it into a ball,
It will lead you into Heaven's Gate
Built in Jerusalem's wall.
-William Blake


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