Thursday, July 23, 2009

Eloquent blood

Her pure and eloquent blood
Spoke in her cheeks, and so distinctly wrought
That one might almost say, her body thought.

--- John Donne

The great metaphysical poet, Mr. Donne, has given me something to think about, something to strive for, something bigger than the quotidian restraints of bills and debt and the humidity of late July. Some find solace in religion, some find solace in drugs, some find solace in work, I find it in language.

11 comments:

  1. Language is an escape for me. Writing, reading.....

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  2. Yes, I know exactly what you mean.

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  3. thank you anonymous, I like it too.

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  4. Touche! Anon has morphed into Tim, a reader of your blog through BHB recently. very intriguing, i must say...

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  5. Indeed! I'll endeavor to be a faithful reader... and to display my droll wit, with a comment here or there, from time to time. not to be a stranger, as they say.

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  6. I love droll wit. And yes don't be a stranger. LAS

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  7. its a deal, then. alright... am off to listen to some outdoor zydeco. if that won't prompt some drollery (sp? is it even a word?), then nothing will...

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  8. i walked out of the show last night replete with thoughts for a post, but i fear this heat has squelched the inspiration... writer's block is a terrible thing. more wine, i think, may help...

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