tugboat sent to me this poem this morning:
Please Bring Strange Things
Please bring strange things.
Please come bringing new things.
Let very old things come into your hands.
Let what you do not know come into your eyes.
Let desert sand harden your feet.
Let the arch of your feet be the mountains.
Let the paths of your fingertips be your maps
And the ways you go be the lines of your palms.
Let there be deep snow in your inbreathing
And your outbreath be the shining of ice.
May your mouth contain the shapes of strange words.
May you smell food cooking you have not eaten.
May the spring of a foreign river be your navel.
May your soul be at home where there are no houses.
Walk carefully, well-loved one,
Walk mindfully, well-loved one,
Walk fearlessly, well-loved one.
Return with us, return to us,
Be always coming home.
---Ursula K. Leguin
ursula's been recommended to me, specifically her short story collection "The Compass Rose", but the above poem is my first direct exposure to her writing. i'm already in love.
i see ursula shimmering up the beach in her white bikini of imagery, her lush sensory evocations swirling about her like gusts of tangy sea air. i long to be her 007, to devour her words and shoot them like bullets from the muzzle of my literary gun. O, ursula! i'm so happy to have found you at last!
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Posts
Long separated by cruel fate, Ursula and Laurie raced across the grassy field toward each other like two freight trains, one having left New York at 6:36 p.m. travelling at 55 mph, the other leaving Pittsbugh at 4:19p.m. at a speed of 35 mph. It was pompitous.
ReplyDeleteSome people call me Maurice,
'Cause I speak of the pompitous of love.
woop! from your keyboard to ursula's ears. :)
ReplyDelete