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“What did my fingers do before they held him? What did my heart do, with its love?"
--Sylvia Plath, "Three Women: A Poem for Three Voices" Collected Poems
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Posted by Leanna - Thursday, December 17, 2015 - 4:28am
The body is a place of violence. Wolf teeth, amputated hands. Cover yourself with a cloak of leaves, a cloak of a thousand furs, a paper dress. The dark forest has a code. The witch sometimes dispenses advice, sometimes eats you for dinner, sometimes turns your brother to stone.
You will become a canary in a castle, but you'll learn plenty of songs. Little girl, watch out for old women and young men. If you don't stay in your tower you're bound for trouble. This too is code. Your body is the tower you long to escape,
and all the rotted fruit your babies. The bones in the forest your memories. The little birds bring you berries. The pebbles on the trail glow ghostly white.
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Posted by Leanna - Wednesday, December 9, 2015 - 3:33pm
On a great occasion you may witness a sight so beautiful, too beautiful for words, and you feel an overwhelming sensation that somehow you got it right... That life has not forgotten you, that it holds you in its hands, that the circumstances in which you currently find yourself are curiously preordained and therefore just right. That you are exactly where you are destined to be. And it is clear that you should not question, but only move forward, one foot ahead of the other, to the path that lies directly in front of you. Don't look back now.
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Posted by Leanna - Tuesday, December 8, 2015 - 5:01pm
"The lunatic is in my head.
The lunatic is in my head.
You raise the blade,
you make the change,
you rearrange me til I'm sane.
You lock the door,
and throw away the key.
There's someone in my head,
but it's not me."
-- Pink Floyd, from Dark Side of the Moon
