Sinister: i will show you fear in a handful of dust

[marie elia]

yo yo sinistah kids, one and all.

i'm supremely fecking jealous of y'all 
that went to ATP, especially the ones 
who witnessed a shirtless struan Doing 
His Thang (cuz lord knows it doesn't 
sound like any of y'all watched the bands, 
just played soccer all day, sheesh).  i 
hear that erica nursed the ginger-haired 
one's wound...  well, she saw it up close 
and personal anyway, even with her 
sunglasses up on her head and not doing 
her a bit of good.  damn this isn't making 
sense.  

if anyone makes fun of winter wooskie 
they're gonna have ME to deal with, okay??  
i'll open up a can of whoop-ass on ya, so 
don't even try it.

miss julie, glamourous cybergal that she is, 
posted her first post.  of course she threw 
that stupid parrot at will, who proceeded to 
toss it at me, and since it IS monday, i 
will let it speak its turn:

___________________________________________
S U N S E T, by Louise Gluck (which should 
           have two little dots over the u)

My great happiness
is the sound your voice makes 
calling to me even in despair; my sorrow
that I cannot answer you
in speech you accept as mine.

You have no faith in your own language.
So you invest
authority in signs
you cannot read with any accuracy.

And yet your voice reaches me always.
And I answer constantly,
my anger passing
as winter passes.  My tenderness
should be apparent to you
in the breeze of the summer evening
and in the words that become
your own response.
_______________________________________


right, and it seems that somehow the 
stupid bird got delayed, in a weird time 
zone screw-up or something, and so he's 
like, floating around in more than one 
place, but i insist that this is the Real 
Poetry Parrot, and i heretoforth toss him 
at.... erm, lesley jo, because i can never 
get enough of her dyke skeelz.  
awww, yeeeah.

well.  i remain one of the ign'ant masses 
who hasn't heard "legal man" yet.  right 
now i'm contenting myself with leonard 
cohen, who is the supreme master songwriter.  
er, after stuart m., natch.

by the way, mad props Have to go out to sam 
a.k.a. Brand New Shoes (or popstart for you 
brave #sinisterites) because he hosted me 
and my grrrl KIMberly when we ventured down 
to pittsburgh last week to see the ever-lovely 
cat power, and he was a Damn fine gentleman.  
he's not really new, but be nice to him anyway.  

also massive props to LauraLlew for knowing who 
the flashgirls are and for her well-deserved 
affection for dorothy parker.  milkmaids unite!

*ahem*

why are you all Looking at me funny???
stop it!
sheesh.


xo,
ree




=====
***********************************************************
            "to me she was just marie."  -mersault
"hearts don't break/ the division is innate" -secret stars

      | eliam at alleg.edu | littlearsonist at yahoo.com | 
***********************************************************

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