Saturday, October 14, 2006

The Silk of Kings

muddies the waters
of my rest.

A reminder, yet again:
together we are
primitive woven cloth,
not the silk of kings
or dreams.

And I die another death.

8 August 1999

Photograph/Liz March


Blogger emma said...

So powerful, yet so delicate. I love it.

7:12 PM  
Blogger herhimnbryn said...

Wistful words A.
But can't primative cloths be colourful and tough. long lasting too?

Your poem has made me wonder?

12:02 AM  
Blogger Sigrid Jardin said...

Ah, I wonder if the silk of kings is all that it is cracked up to be?! Life is full of snags and thorns and I don't think anyone who is human escapes some of them. But your poetry is lovely, and the photo shows a luxurious and elegant room - I hope it's yours. Sending you my very best thoughts!

3:46 PM  
Blogger adagio said...

no, not my lounge sigrid. yes, it is a great room. and house. belongs to the photographer, my good friend liz.

5:23 PM  

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