Delft

It was a beautiful day today, so I went to Delft. It's a small town with a beautiful cathedral and picturesque canals just a few minutes from the Hague. There's a huge market there full of neat, cheap stuff. I picked up an antique key and a red satin ribbon for under two euros--plus a whole bunch of nail polish and a pair of sunglasses. Sunglasses are awful for me; they're always too big for my face, look weird, and I am terrible at judging which ones are flattering. I had a pair of awesome sexy movie star sunglasses that somehow managed to be both trendy and flattering...and I lost them this week. The new sunglasses are NOT as cute as the old ones. MJ says they make me look like Arnold Schwarzeneggar. So I will look like the Terminator all throughout Brittany, instead of looking like Mary Kate Olsen with my cute waify sunglasses. Sighh...

No pictures because I forgot to bring my camera. But I did work on some poetry, and I will leave you with this. It's a poem I actually wrote a while ago, inspired by this creepy painting by Egon Schiele, but I worked on it today:


Transfiguration: The Blind
(An Open Letter to the Living)

Our death does not skulk in the doorway
Like a dubious visitor.
Instead it rises up from the ground to greet us.

See how it pools in the caverns of our cheekbones.
Takes refuge in our orbital lobes.
When at last it takes the grief from our only bones,

See how we sink down in the fields.
Take our eyes for the barleycorn
Take our lungs for the green forests.

Take our teeth for the tax man
Take our tongues for the crosshatched fields.
We forget our name. We forget our face.

Our absence is an echo chamber. Do not listen for our silence.
Do not weep for us. Do not look for us.
We are already gone.