Jan. 1st, 2009

{ \o/ }

Jan. 1st, 2009 12:18 am
delga: ([grace] yayarms!)

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

delga: ([Random] thinly-veiled dissonance.)

Mahler in New York
by Joseph Fasano

Now when I go out, the wind pulls me
into the grave. I go out
to part the hair of a child I left behind,

and he pushes his face into my cuffs, to smell the wind.
If I carry my father with me, it is the way
a horse carries autumn in its mane.

If I remember my brother,
it is as if a buck had knelt down
in a room I was in.

I kneel, and the wind kneels down in me.
What is it to have a history, a flock
buried in the blindness of winter?

Try crawling with two violins
into the hallway of your father’s hearse.
It is filled with sparrows.

Sometimes I go to the field
and the field is bare. There is the wind,
which entrusts me;

there is a woman walking with a pail of milk,
a man who tilts his bread in the sun;
there is the black heart of a mare

in the milk—or is it the wind, the way it goes?
I don’t know about the wind, about the way
it goes. All I know is that sometimes

someone will pick up the black violin of his childhood
and start playing—that it sits there on his shoulder
like a thin gray falcon asleep in its blinders,

and that we carry each other this way
because it is the way we would like to be carried:
sometimes with mercy, sometimes without.

delga: ([merlin] Gauis shits thee not.)

I don't do resolutions at this time of year; in fact, I make them at any time of year that isn't now because the winter festivities brainwash me into thinking I'm capable of things that I'm not really capable of and I break all my resolutions by February. So. I don't know. That was a fairly pointless way of opening this post.

I will say, though, that I hope expand my flist some and to get back to my regular pattern of posting a handful of times during the day, if only because I sort of miss it, and it stopped me from being piss lazy. True story.

--

YULETIDE REVEAL!!!! I wrote more for Yuletide in that span of a week or whatever it was than I have all year for anything. RIDICULOUS. My main fics were Strength in Numbers (ensemble, Army Wives) and I Will Dream I Was a Daughter (Ruth, Spooks) for [livejournal.com profile] ceridwyn2. I also wrote three pinch-hits/yuletide treats: Half-Life (Spooks) which looks at Ros between seasons 6 and 7; Asynchrony (Spooks) which is about Lucas re-adjusting to England (I suspect I gave myself away with that one; what say you [livejournal.com profile] tigertrapped?); and Lloyd's Still Got Them Polaroids (Life) which is about Tidwell's half-endearing, half-creepy interest in Dani Reese.

Yeah. YEAH.

--

Eventually I will do that fic round up meme though probably not before I do another picspam. Haha. Plus, I sort of want to do "previously, in fandom" posts for all the shows that I stopped talking about a couple of months ago. But to do that I sort of need to catch up with them? Oh dear.

--

GIP! I love this icon, but I still think it would be funnier if the line was I shit thee not.

delga: ([Random] rush me.)

Ramallah
by Bei Dao

in Ramallah
the ancients play chess in the starry sky
the endgame flickers
a bird locked in a clock
jumps out to tell the time

in Ramallah
the sun climbs over the wall like an old man
and goes through the flea market
throwing mirror light on
a rusted copper plate

in Ramallah
gods drink water from earthen jars
a bow asks a string for directions
a boy sets out to inherit the ocean
from the edge of the sky

in Ramallah
seeds sown along the high noon
death blossoms outside my window
resisting, the tree takes on a hurricane's
violent original shape

(Translation by Eliot Weinberger)

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