My hero bares his nerves

My hero bares his nerves along my wrist
That rules from wrist to shoulder,
Unpacks the head that, like a sleepy ghost,
Leans on my mortal ruler,
The proud spine spurning turn and twist.

And these poor nerves so wired to the skull
Ache on the lovelorn paper
I hug to love with my unruly scrawl
That utters all love hunger
And tells the page the empty ill.

My hero bares my side and sees his heart
Tread, like a naked Venus,
The beach of flesh, and wind her bloodred plait;
Stripping my loin of promise,
He promises a secret heat.

He holds the wire from the box of nerves
Praising the mortal error
Of birth and death, the two sad knaves of thieves,
And the hunger's emperor;
He pulls the chain, the cistern moves.

by Dylan Thomas


Tonight: indignez-vous! Un lecture chez Shakespeare avec l'auteur, il a plus que 90 ans, et toujours très futé. Un véritable plaisir. Après, un petit verre avec Hanna, ma nouvelle copine russe, et les autres anglais et suédois qui sont toujours là. Colette aussi, toujours adorable.

I found the spider that has been biting me in the night. I trapped him between li-young lee's book of poetry and a glass. I gave him a very stern talking to-- he should know that it's not nice to bite young women in their sleep! I then escorted him down the hall, put him on the elevator and sent him to the ground floor. The camelias are blooming in the garden, he should build a web there.

Cleaned the kitchen very thoroughly while Hanna checked the internet. Used half a lemon to get the calcium deposits off of the pot in which I boil water. Drafted a sympathy note for someone I respect, which is really just an admission of how much I respect and appreciate him. Drank good bordeaux with an intricate label. Vented.

Another job offer. Two days to accept or decline. Can I survive a summer in Paris with no lover without dying of loneliness? Pour vrai dire, je ne sais pas. Je suis parfois très, très seule. Comme s'il existait en moi un trou, qui ne peut pas être rempli. Comme s'il existait en moi un trou, et dans ce trou, la nuit. La nuit, comme une bouche qui ne referme jamais, mais qui ouvre de plus en plus jusqu'à elle est capable de m'avaler en entier.

As if there existed in me a hole that couldn't be filled. As if there existed in me a hole, and in this hole, the night. The night, like a mouth that never closes, that opens wider and wider until it swallows me completely.