(no subject)

Anybody watch last night's battlestar galactica? Somebody tell me that is Samantha Ferris and I'm not hallucinating - she's not in credits and she's not on IMDB but I swear it's her, one of the knuckledraggers. Y/N??

Yeesh

So we have workshop in poetry class every week, and additionally we have to submit a poem every week to the lecturer, and the poems up for workshop this week were just sent around and a couple of them are so freaking good I'm terrified. One guy wrote a sonnet in what I'm pretty sure is perfect iambic pentameter - it's pretty fucking amazing, actually, and it's not a bad piece of poetry at all. And one woman wrote this thing in a very formal kind of free verse which is pretty impressive - it has a *lot* of Maori in it, all glossed of course. I'm hesitating between saying that I think it's seriously cool - which I do - and saying that it really detracts from the poem - which I also think is true, because the vast majority of people reading the poem are going to need the gloss desperately, and it's not just five words, it's a word or two in nearly every line (and the lines are short, too, three or four words), so about a fifth of the poem is being glossed and it's just. Hm.

Anyway, I'm totally panicking and writing a lot so you guys get it archived here, you lucky things, you. ;)

you're completely cracked

your memory is weird patterns of light
from an old, cracked mirror.
not seven years, but endless time
of fractal recollection is all that's left to you.
I know you're looking for me,
but every where I am light is spidering away.

they say, you've got a memory like a sieve,
things just keep running out of it.
I think, only if the sieve is shaped like your hands,
clutching yesterday in your fists,
it keeps running over your fingers.

tomorrow you will look in the mirror
and cracks will spindle out again a little,
like you don't recognise yourself in shop windows
and you can't remember your daughter's name,
she's overshadowed,
out of focus.

the thing about spectacles is,

when you take them off,
it's impossible to see where you put them.
it's this whole big irony thing.

the thing about you is,
it's like I'm not sure where to look for you
I don't remember putting you down.

that's not quite so ironic,
I think it's deliberate.
you cultivate it, hiding behind my back,
peering out when I look the other way,
standing in front of me in the dark.

I should be able to see you,
if I could magnify you, direct
your light and your reflection
in my rear-view mirrors.
this must be on purpose.
I just had a check up,
I'm looking out for you
with my corrective lenses.



Also, sixth_light, I have Heroes.