| User since: | Aug 2006 | | Location: | Frolicking in Sherwood Forest | | Local user: | No | | Accepts email Private Messages: | Yes Send an email PM | | Accepts Inbox Private Messages: | Yes Send an Inbox PM | | External instant messagers: | none defined | | Blog available: | No | | Personal home page: | None | | Personal interests: | Reading, Writing, Watching movies... | | Occupation: | Unknown | | Premium user: | No
|
| | Personal bio: | To the theme of I belive I can fly....
I believe you can die
I believe you can fall over and die
I believe it every night and day
Spread my knives and throw them your way
I believe you're a whore
I saw you whoring in the open door....
“Lovers on Aran” by Seamus Heaney
The timeless waves, bright, sifting, broken glass,
Came dazzling around, into the rocks,
Came glinting, sifting from the Americas
To possess Aran. Or did Aran rush
to throw wide arms of rock around a tide
That yielded with an ebb, with a soft crash?
Did sea define the land or land the sea?
Each drew new meaning from the waves' collision.
Sea broke on land to full identity. |
|
|
