http://search.deviantart.com/?q=by:notebookscritches&section=today deviantART RSS for by:notebookscritches en-us Copyright 2009, deviantART.com Sun, 20 Dec 2009 00:07:36 PST deviantART.com http://blogs.law.harvard.edu/tech/rss http://s.deviantart.com/minish/widgets/apple-touch-icon-precomposed.png http://notebookscritches.deviantart.com/journal/24276606/ http://notebookscritches.deviantart.com/journal/24276606/ Thu, 16 Apr 2009 15:48:15 PDT The midwife slapped your footsoles, and your bald cry
Took its place among the elements.

Our voices echo, magnifying your arrival. New statue.
In a drafty museum, your nakedness
Shadows our safety. We stand round blankly as walls.

I’m no more your mother
Than the cloud that distills a mirror to reflect its own slow
Effacement at the wind’s hand.

All night your moth-breath
Flickers among the flat pink roses. I wake to listen:
A far sea moves in my ear.

One cry, and I stumble from bed, cow-heavy and floral
In my Victorian nightgown.
Your mouth opens clean as a cat’s. The window square

Whitens and swallows its dull stars. And now you try
Your handful of notes;
The clear vowels rise like balloons.




I love that, "clear vowels rise like ballons" I can just see those airy words forming from a baby's mouth.I have that wine-y taste in my mouth right now...warmth and contentment after reading this poem. Totally made my day.

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]]> ~notebookscritches http://notebookscritches.deviantart.com/journal/18449974/ http://notebookscritches.deviantart.com/journal/18449974/ Thu, 22 May 2008 15:43:40 PDT So anyways, I just came back from violin and I was pressing down onto my strings so hard my fingers feel raw, down to the boneees man. Then after that, I had fricken piano. Talk about torture.
Just cut off my arms will ya?

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