As a contrast to my last post here, and as proof that my lightheartedness has returned, here's a link to another blog I found in my wanderings today. I love the second half of her post entitled "Penelope Tree".
My wow moment of the week occurred on the bus. I sat in a seat that is in front of a large round mirror hung at an angle from the ceiling. The mirror serves some purpose for the driver, I'm sure, but in sitting in that seat, the mirror reflected from its angle a full view of me. Since it was just outside my range of detail-seeing, the mirror reflected a small pale face looking up surrounded by a mass of red hair and a background of dark blue trenchcoat. This view of mine only lastd for a minute or two because the bus ride isn't very long, but it struck the same note as Ezra Pound's poem:
In a Station of The Metro
The apparition of these faces in the crowd;
Petals on a wet, black bough.
This poem will have its place on a wall of mine in vinyl letters one day. Along with W. Carlos Williams' The Red Wheelbarrow. On seperate walls, of course. With different colors and fonts and such.
My wow moment of the week occurred on the bus. I sat in a seat that is in front of a large round mirror hung at an angle from the ceiling. The mirror serves some purpose for the driver, I'm sure, but in sitting in that seat, the mirror reflected from its angle a full view of me. Since it was just outside my range of detail-seeing, the mirror reflected a small pale face looking up surrounded by a mass of red hair and a background of dark blue trenchcoat. This view of mine only lastd for a minute or two because the bus ride isn't very long, but it struck the same note as Ezra Pound's poem:
In a Station of The Metro
The apparition of these faces in the crowd;
Petals on a wet, black bough.
This poem will have its place on a wall of mine in vinyl letters one day. Along with W. Carlos Williams' The Red Wheelbarrow. On seperate walls, of course. With different colors and fonts and such.