Ectothermal

Sing Walls

Grendel, Grendel! You make the world by whispers, second by second. Are you blind to that? Whether you make it a grave or a garden of roses is not the point. Feel the wall: is it not hard? He smashes me against it, breaks open my forehead. Hard, yes! Observe the hardness, write it down in careful runes. Now sing of walls! Sing!

I howl.

Sing!

"I'm singing!"

Sing words! Sing raving hymns!

"You're crazy. Ow!"

Sing!

"I sing of walls," I howl. "Hooray for the hardness of walls!"

Terrible, he whispers. Terrible. He laughs and lets out fire.

"You're crazy," I say. "If you think I created that wall that cracked my head, you're a fucking lunatic."

Sing walls,he hisses.

I have no choice.

~John Gardner, Grendel

Strange fact: I received two poems by email this week.

I'm trying to follow Ray Bradbury's advice to read a poem or bit of literary art every day. I just started, and already the Universe has reciprocated by sending me two original works through the internet. One is a poem from a dear friend, who sent a poetic interpretation of a poem I sent her. Another, an unsolicited poem from a relative stranger I have only met online. A beautiful, lyrical work that may be a song - I am not sure. It could be a song. I'm embarassed to say that I had to look up several of the words in the poem. The guy who wrote it appears to be many years my junior, too. I don't know why I feel like younger people (than me) should have a more limited vocabulary. Certainly, it's a nonsensical expectation.

Dave and I went out and trolled the bars on Cap. Hill last night, smoked & drank and chatted up some of the local cuties. It was fun, but I am completely destroyed today. I overdid it - I think the cigarettes were the real culprit, although I did have quite a few "lite" beers and one shot of Wild Turkey. My ears were hot and red all night. I should know that when my ears turn red it is time to switch to water. I need to pay better attention to my ears.

On the bright side I didn't make a sloppy pass at someone or pass my phone number out to everyone I met. (I've done both of these things on other occassions, much to my later embarassment.) So I think I'll be switching back to iced tea and poetry for the next 6 months or so, until that old urge to poison my liver comes back.

posted by Ecto Thermal @ 5:18 PM