Thursday, June 29, 2006

Lions in Sweden

No more phrases, Swenson: I was once
A hunter of those sovereigns of the soul
And savings banks, Fides, the sculptor's prize,
All eyes and size, and galled Justitia,
Trained to poise the tables of the law,
Patientia, forever soothing wounds,
And mighty Fortitudo, frantic bass.
But these shall not adorn my souvenirs,
These lions, these majectic images.
If the fault is with the soul, the sovereigns
Of the soul must likewise be at fault, and first.
If the fault is with the souvenirse, yet these
Are the soul itself. And the whole of the soul, Swenson,
As every man in Sweden will concede,
Still hankers after lions, sent them back
To Monseiur Dufy's Hamburg whence they came.
The vegetation still abounds with forms.
-w. stevens

Justitia: the roman goddess of justice

Frogs eat butterflies, snakes eat frogs, hogs eat snakes, men eat hogs

It is true the the rivers went nosing like swine,
Tugging at banks, until they seemed
Bland belly-sounds in somnolent troughs,

That the air was heavy with the breath of these swine,
The breath of turgid summer,and
Heavy with thunders' rattapallax,

That the man who erected this cabin, planted
This field, and tended it awhile,
Knew not the quirks of imagery,

That the hours of his indolent, arid days,
Grotesque with this nosing in banks,
This somnolence and rattapallax,

Seemed to suckle themselves on his arid being,
As the swine-like rivers suckled themselves
While they went seaward to the sea-mouths
-w. stevens

rattapallax: the sound of thunder

Nuns fret not at their convent's narrow rooms

Nuns fret not at their convent's narrow room;
And hermits are contented with their cells;
And students with their pensive citadels;
Maids at the wheel, the weaver at his loom,
Sit blithe and happy; bees that soar for bloom,
High as the highest Peak of Furness-fells,
Will murmur by the hour in foxglove bells;
In truth the prison, into which we doom
Ourselves, no prison is: and hence for me,
In sundry moods, 'twas pastime to be bound
Within the Sonnets' scanty plot of ground;
Pleased if some Souls (for such there needs must be)
Who have felt the weight of too much liberty,
Should find brief solace there,as I have found.
-wordsworth (who else)

sundry: haphazard assortment of different things

The weather is kind of warmish and a bit overcast today. The interzone has burritos with a lot of marinated tofu in them. I like tofu, but I'd pretty much prefer beans in a burrito, generally.
I get a big kick out of my job: I really don't mind it at all. There is something about dishwashing that kind of calms my mind. On the other hand, doing it full time would be a drag, and I didn't go to college for four years to be a dishwasher, so maybe I'll get into day trading or mutual funds or something.

I can really do without that tall building they are building in front of the beanery. It really blocks the sky. I often feel a real sense of peace walking into the beanery and enjoying the quiet atmosphere and sky in that part of town, being a block from the river and all that, so I don't like that new building.

much have I travelled in realms of gold
measuring out my life in coffee spoons
in a litte cow town
cooking up some fried rice

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