the days are a blur
Yesterday I turned the corner at the BART station entrance near work and was startled out of my wits by a homeless lady squatting at the head of the stairs. I'd like to think this is why I jumped, gasped, and scurried to the escalator in a rush. Also why I was halfway down the escalator before I realized - I was going in the wrong direction. That is, I was going down on an up escalator...
I think the fact that I'm still alive, and not a puddle of gore jamming the BART entrance (a la cheap horror movie), says a lot about my survival instincts. The whole incident actually also says a lot about my awareness these days. Well, basically, it says that I have none...
So it's 8 o'clock and I'm still at work. It is dark outside. I would say something poetic here about the city lights flickering through the night fog but all I can really think is I want to go home and dig a hole in my blankets where I can hibernate for the next seven months. Um, I feel like every blog entry I write while I'm at work says this. So before I start REALLY whining again, I'm going home. :D
posted by jenchen @ 10/16/2006 07:38:00 PM
4 talk to me!
4 Comments:
someone already took care of the poetry part:
The Changing Light
The changing light
at San Francisco
is none of your East Coast light
none of your
pearly light of Paris
The light of San Francisco
is a sea light
an island light
And the light of fog
blanketing the hills
drifting in at night
through the Golden Gate
to lie on the city at dawn
And then the halcyon late mornings
after the fog burns off
and the sun paints white houses
with the sea light of Greece
with sharp clean shadows
making the town look like
it had just been painted
But the wind comes up at four o'clock
sweeping the hills
And then the veil of light of early evening
And then another scrim
when the new night fog
floats in
And in that vale of light
the city drifts
anchorless upon the ocean
Lawrence Ferlinghetti
im going to steal this poem from you, anonymous! 8)
blogger got rid of the formatting for this poem. to see it in its original glory, go to:
http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/16009
unless you find unconventional formatting to be pretentious.
remember meeting lawrence ferlinghetti?
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