HOLD ON TIGHT

HE SAID, MARIE, MARIE, HOLD ON TIGHT And when we were children, staying at the archduke's, My cousin's, he took me out on a sled, And I was frightened. He said, Marie, Marie, hold on tight. And down we went. In the mountains, there you feel free. I read, much of the night, and go south in the winter. ~ The Waste Land, "The Burial of The Dead", Eliot Saturday, March 10, 2007 meeting poet ken french and his partner is lovely. they have come back from dinner, wear earrings, are old, balding bearded potbellied men in outrageous pajamas pants. their black dog circles around my ankles like a whirring top. they laugh about spring in paris. have a great spring, i say. have a great sunday, they say, you brave girl. posted by dawn # 2:31 AM Comments: Post a Comment << Home		[publishing] Publishers Weekly . Dystel & Goderich . New York Center for Independent Publishing . Association of American University Presses . Society of Children's Book Writers and Illustrators [people] clarisse . nurul . aunty zarina (ummi's bakery) . jeremy . pak . cyril . softblow . karen & kenny (booksactually) . eric . joel . [other loves] digitaljournalist . ballet dictionary . poetshouse . urbanwordnyc [me] dawn, singapore, new york city, ithaca. [yesterday] the paradox of pain (from the book of 5am stories) i miss humidity, thunderstorms, perspiring and wea... bukit timah and bare naked ladies a general detachment, from love, from things. perh... if the influence of the sunlight love and learning dear god.i beg you to help me sleep. flowers, and etc and the same black line that was drawn on you, was... [archives] January 2007 February 2007 March 2007 April 2007 May 2007 July 2007 August 2007 September 2007 October 2007 November 2007 December 2007 January 2008 February 2008 March 2008 April 2008 May 2008 June 2008 July 2008 August 2008 September 2008 October 2008 November 2008 December 2008 January 2009 February 2009

HE SAID, MARIE, MARIE, HOLD ON TIGHT

And when we were children, staying at the archduke's,
My cousin's, he took me out on a sled,
And I was frightened. He said, Marie,
Marie, hold on tight. And down we went.
In the mountains, there you feel free.
I read, much of the night, and go south in the winter.

~ The Waste Land, "The Burial of The Dead", Eliot

Saturday, March 10, 2007

meeting poet ken french and his partner is lovely. they have come back from dinner, wear earrings, are old, balding bearded potbellied men in outrageous pajamas pants. their black dog circles around my ankles like a whirring top. they laugh about spring in paris. have a great spring, i say. have a great sunday, they say, you brave girl.

posted by dawn # 2:31 AM

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