I am going to break my own NO POETRY rule because its January... and February is coming up...so freakish desperate acts are allowed, and even welcomed. I accidentally read this poem by Dylan Thomas a few years ago and have been re-reading it frequently ever since.

A PROCESS IN THE WEATHER OF THE HEART

A process in the weather of the heart
Turns damp to dry; the golden shot
Storms in the freezing tomb.
A weather in the quarter of the veins
Turns night to day; blood in their suns
Lights up the living worm.

A process in the eye forwarns
The bones of blindness; and the womb
Drives in a death as life leaks out.

A darkness in the weather of the eye
Is half its light; the fathomed sea
Breaks on unangled land.
The seed that makes a forest of the loin
Forks half its fruit; and half drops down,
Slow in a sleeping wind.

A weather in the flesh and bone
Is damp and dry; the quick and dead
Move like two ghosts before the eye.

A process in the weather of the world
Turns ghost to ghost; each mothered child
Sits in their double shade.
A process blows the moon into the sun,
Pulls down the shabby curtains of the skin;
And the heart gives up its dead.


- sally mckay 1-19-2004 8:18 am

You can’t be depressed yet, it’s only the 19th. You need a drink with an umbrella in it or something. Go play with your new PS2, that’ll cheer you up.

- joester (guest) 1-19-2004 10:03 pm


did I say I was deppressed? anyhow I'm getting PS2 on the way home from work today. and a drink with an umbrella.
- sally mckay 1-19-2004 10:42 pm


That's a good Thomas poem. All people who post poetry are presumed to be depressed, except the author of this one (I know you've heard it already):

Edward Said
Is dead.
Unless it is pronounced Said
In which case he dieed.

- tom moody 1-19-2004 11:25 pm





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