Oct 2018
"WEEPE SHEAPHERD WEEPEM, TO MAKE MY UNDER SONG"
I peeled myself
off the ceiling.
And somehow returned
to who I was.
This dying isn't as
easy as it looks.
It's too like
hard work.
And once again I began
floating upwards.
The ceiling and I
now old friends..
Looking down at myself
looking up.
The surgeons busy
at work.
A bead of sweat
caught in an eyebrow.
Me busy flat lining
just like in the movies.
I able to recall
it all.
The there and
not-there enthrals.
And as I floated ceiling-ward
for the third time.
Gravity let me down
and I fell back into place
fitted neatly
into my self.
Death and I
locked in a staring match.
Eyeballing one another
he more afraid than I.
Until lo and ****** behold
Death...
...blinked first.
I peeled myself
off the ceiling.
And somehow returned
to who I was.
This dying isn't as
easy as it looks.
It's too like
hard work.
And once again I began
floating upwards.
The ceiling and I
now old friends..
Looking down at myself
looking up.
The surgeons busy
at work.
A bead of sweat
caught in an eyebrow.
Me busy flat lining
just like in the movies.
I able to recall
it all.
The there and
not-there enthrals.
And as I floated ceiling-ward
for the third time.
Gravity let me down
and I fell back into place
fitted neatly
into my self.
Death and I
locked in a staring match.
Eyeballing one another
he more afraid than I.
Until lo and ****** behold
Death...
...blinked first.
An Elegy
SHE fell away in her first ages spring,
Whil’st yet her leaf was green, and fresh her rinde,
And whil’st her branch fair blossoms forth did bring,
She fell away against all course of kind.
For age to die is right, but youth is wrong; 5
She fell away like fruit blown down with wind.
Weep, Shepherd! weep, to make my undersong.
Yet fell she not as one enforc’d to die,
Ne died with dread and grudging discontent,
But as one toil’d with travail down doth lie,
So lay she down, as if to sleep she went,
And closed her eyes with careless quietness;
The whiles soft death away her spirit sent,
And soul assoyld from sinful fleshliness.
Edmud Spenser( 1552?-1599 )
She said that all the time she was up and down to Ceiling Land this fragment of Spenser kept going through her head like a refrain.
"...an undersong of sense which none beside the poetic mind can comprehend.”
Landor.
She was the only person I actually knew who had this experience...I was fascinated by it...she just thought of it as "well there ya go" and was more intrigued by the fact that the Spencer lines kept going around in her head like a refrain and it bugged her that she couldn't remember where it was from....for her to know was more important than the actual dying.
SHE fell away in her first ages spring,
Whil’st yet her leaf was green, and fresh her rinde,
And whil’st her branch fair blossoms forth did bring,
She fell away against all course of kind.
For age to die is right, but youth is wrong; 5
She fell away like fruit blown down with wind.
Weep, Shepherd! weep, to make my undersong.
Yet fell she not as one enforc’d to die,
Ne died with dread and grudging discontent,
But as one toil’d with travail down doth lie,
So lay she down, as if to sleep she went,
And closed her eyes with careless quietness;
The whiles soft death away her spirit sent,
And soul assoyld from sinful fleshliness.
Edmud Spenser( 1552?-1599 )
She said that all the time she was up and down to Ceiling Land this fragment of Spenser kept going through her head like a refrain.
"...an undersong of sense which none beside the poetic mind can comprehend.”
Landor.
She was the only person I actually knew who had this experience...I was fascinated by it...she just thought of it as "well there ya go" and was more intrigued by the fact that the Spencer lines kept going around in her head like a refrain and it bugged her that she couldn't remember where it was from....for her to know was more important than the actual dying.
