I Knew A Woman
I knew a woman, lovely in her bones,
When small birds sighed, she would sigh back at them;
Ah, when she moved, she moved more ways than one:
The shapes a bright container can contain!
Of her choice virtues only gods should speak,
Or English poets who grew up on Greek
(I’d have them sing in chorus, cheek to cheek.)
How well her wishes went! She stroked my chin,
She taught me Turn, and Counter-turn, and Stand;
She taught me Touch, that undulant white skin:
I nibbled meekly from her proffered hand.
She was the sickle; I, poor I, the rake,
Coming behind her for her pretty sake
(But what prodigious mowing did we make.)
Love likes a gander, and adores a goose:
Her full lips pursed, the errant note to seize;
She played it quick, she played it light and loose;
My eyes, they dazzled at her flowing knees;
Her several parts could keep a pure repose,
Or one hip quiver with a mobile nose
(She moved in circles, and those circles moved.)
Let seed be grass, and grass turn into hay:
I’m martyr to a motion not my own;
What’s freedom for? To know eternity.
I swear she cast a shadow white as stone.
But who would count eternity in days?
These old bones live to learn her wanton ways:
(I measure time by how a body sways.)
-Theodore Roethke
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ryn: Ted Hughes. Birthday Letters.
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ryn: Nah, it’s still just weakness. Whichever way you look at it.
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I thought you were a rubbish dancer 😉
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Er well no not really, but it’s something to talk about that’s not nightmarishly depressing, right? Well I do reckon she’d shag me, but I’m not sure that means anything.
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Er that note is hideous. I mean given she’s half-shagged me twice already with very little encouragement. God I couldn’t sound more arrogant if I tried. Also I’m an awesome dancer.
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Yeah… I was on 10 months without blackouts I think at one point, before the whole Frank thing. That’s nearly a driving licence…
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I can see why you’d think that. Maybe you’re right. I just – at the time, when he said it – it was just like replay in my head. Like when you can’t even work out if something is real because the deja vu is too insane. I get the impression you’ve been really angry with me for a while now, and it’s totally deserved and I totally understand. I still like hearing from you whatever you have to say to me.
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ryn: if only wcw consistently wrote as well as seventh graders.
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My other noters are all jealous of our mad emailing skills, or more accurately yours, they probably assume I reply with “er yeah alright” rather than two page feminist diatribes about how you’re too good for marriage. Whereas your noters just think I’m an obnoxious kid who shouldn’t be allowed to play until he signs up to the compliment/unconditionalsupport terms and conditions!
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Well your note section needed a few opinions! Probably not mine though… Yeah, half of my noters go back longer than I like to admit to, though I have mostly managed to avoid the sort of people who are into all that online dating crap 😉
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If that’s not the worst attempt at sarcasm I’ve ever heard, I don’t know what it is…
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Well I worship you too, that hasn’t ever done you any bloody good!
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Yeah, it’s definitely occurred to John once or ten times too, he did leap in there the millisecond after it came up. Hah.
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Don’t say things like that where he can read them…
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Much as it is sacrilegious to my Natalie-worship to say this, I think the Natalie-Matt worship might go in the opposite direction to the Michael-Natalie worship. Which is not to say your bighouse bigpaycheque theory is incorrect.
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I haven’t read much nonmedical this year, pathetically enough. ps. Aw, come on, John’s natural ability to scrub up, look convincingly remorseful and charm judges with hardluck apologetic bullshit is at least on a par with any undeserved exam successes I can pull off…
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What’s funny about it? Natalie’s only been driving twice as far for a few hours of sex as you have been for a pint of milk, so that makes me feel less bad about the whole pointless affair. Just don’t buy any chicken feet.
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I think he’s ok. He’s being a bit… um… temperamental. Not with me. Nah, I just don’t know why she’s bothering (<– not that that's anything new). Even if I am the easiest lay in the world/available on demand/don't even need to be spoken to. You sound a lot happier, even in grumpy parent-related notes.
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