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 Tuesday, March 20, 2007 mother called, left a voicemail. the snow is clearing. term begins, life goes on. posted by dawn # 8:57 AM Comments: happy birthday, love. lit a birthday candle for you; silver, for time measured in heartbeats. be strong. # posted by coloured light : 5:20 PM :) thank you, love. i will. you must be too. # posted by Anonymous : 10:49 AM 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] in summer, i will take a flight to beijing, by mys... new paltz, new york. meeting poet ken french and his partner is lovely.... 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 [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

Tuesday, March 20, 2007

mother called, left a voicemail. the snow is clearing. term begins, life goes on.

posted by dawn # 8:57 AM