Forgotten Language

[i-hunger.livejournal.com]

Forgotten Language-

Once I spoke the language of the flowers,
Once I understood each word the caterpillar said,
Once I smiled in secret at the gossip of the starlings,
And shared a conversation with the housefly
in my bed.
Once I heard and answered all the questions
of the crickets,
And joined the crying of each falling dying
flake of snow,
Once I spoke the language of the flowers. . . .
How did it go?
How did it go?

-Shel Silverstein

Ray McNiece

[persephone-blue.livejournal.com]

student says, the world
looks dead to me. I reply,
we are what we see

-- Ray McNiece

(no subject)

[amberdawnpullin.livejournal.com]

The Genealogy of Morals

Take any child dreaming of pickled bones
shelved in a coal-dark cellar understairs
(we are all children when we dream) the stones
red-black with blood from severed jugulars.

Child Francis, Child Gilles went down those stairs,
returned sides, hands and ankles dripping blood,
Bluebeard and gentlest saint. The same nightmares
instruct the evil, as inform the good.

- Alden Nowlan