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 Sunday, May 25, 2008 justin i am in jersey now. he drove us up from ithaca. the day was a lot of sun. i peeled oranges over the highways, and passed them to him on the road. yesterday i wondered where those letters that my grandfather wrote me went to. i am afraid i have already begun to forget. in my forgetfulness, i am unable to feel the grief i need to feel. we clear out the last of my room at wait terrace. he packs my books for me into a box. it's like putting my life in another's hands. if i return to it, will i be able to find anything at all, on my own? i open a shoe box, there is a silver ring, remnants of the previous relationship, but mostly letters from him, things of the present. where did the rest of my years go? you lose a lot of things on the move, i told him, and i've moved so many times. his breathing keeps me up at night, and the dogs howling in the night. i sleep a little on the i-80, i wake up and he's singing to the beatles. all chipper now? he asks, gonna be the poster girl for catnaps? posted by dawn # 7:06 PM 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] running with donald tired feeling whimsical love and desire gum and media guns and boys making magic i don't mean to be bimbotic or anything, but sabri... that funny old hurt the world is melting [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

Sunday, May 25, 2008

justin

i am in jersey now. he drove us up from ithaca. the day was a lot of sun. i peeled oranges over the highways, and passed them to him on the road. yesterday i wondered where those letters that my grandfather wrote me went to. i am afraid i have already begun to forget. in my forgetfulness, i am unable to feel the grief i need to feel. we clear out the last of my room at wait terrace. he packs my books for me into a box. it's like putting my life in another's hands. if i return to it, will i be able to find anything at all, on my own? i open a shoe box, there is a silver ring, remnants of the previous relationship, but mostly letters from him, things of the present. where did the rest of my years go? you lose a lot of things on the move, i told him, and i've moved so many times. his breathing keeps me up at night, and the dogs howling in the night. i sleep a little on the i-80, i wake up and he's singing to the beatles. all chipper now? he asks, gonna be the poster girl for catnaps?

posted by dawn # 7:06 PM

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