Tuesday, April 11, 2006

Love - VI

If you were coming in the fall,
I'd brush the summer by
With half a smile and half a spurn,
As housewives do a fly

If I could see you in a year,
I'd wind the months in balls,
And put them each in separate drawers,
Until their time befalls.

If only centuries delayed,
I'd count them on my hand,
Subtracting till my fingers dropped
Into Van Diemen's land.

If certain, when this life was out,
That yours and mine should be,
I'd toss it yonder like a rind,
And taste eternity.

But now, all ignorant of the length
Of time's uncertain wing,
It goads me, like the goblin bee,
That will not state its sting.

- by Emily Dickinson

1 comment:

  1. Pablo's got it all over this chick.

    Who in the world tries to talk about love by filling her reader's head with visions of flies, rinds, and goblin bees?

    I dunno, maybe these images meant something more to the original audience.

    With all do respect, she just doesn't do it for me. She's way too dry.

    Pablo, on the other hand - he knows what he's talking about and so does everyone else.


Be kind. Rewind.