I spend a lot of time kneading oiled flesh, which means my hands are strong but soft. This is sometimes a bad combination. A day or two ago, after washing the dishes, I dragged the surprisingly hard crusted snow off my car's windshield with my soggy-skinned hands. Wasn't till I was driving that I noticed I had torn scraps of skin off from between my fingers. Ouch.
(I'm healed up now, in time for my weekend appointments. I heal like a young dog, fortunately.)
Roof
Los by starlight –
he lets his hammer fall
and it slides slowly down the ice,
its haft curling round its head; it moves
down the slant, the second hand
of an unfixed, unfixable clock, to skid
silently over eave and gutter, to write
self erasing circles in the space
above the snow. It falls
without a sound.
Much as I admire William Blake, I have to say that he was utterly and completely wrong about stars.
2 comments:
hmmm interesting
lol which is what i say when i don't understand something, but kind of like it anyway
Thanks Jozien! Sorry about the obscurity. "Los" is a figure in the poet William Blake's private mythology -- Los is a maker and a prophet: he carries a hammer, like a blacksmith, as a tool of the labor of creation.
The stars, in the same mythology (more or less) are fixed emblems of rigid law and hierarchy. I've never been able to see them that way.
(Well, not sure if that makes it clearer or less clear :->)
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