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Monday, June 04, 2007

Oh god -- WHAT day is it? Monday? Again?

Dalmatian Lancelot with his face buried in the corner of the couchHere too soon, yet another Monday. More Coffee is Definitely Required!

Seriously, it's a gorgeous day here. With the temperature down in the '60's last night, I could sleep with all the windows open, and it's as yet (at 10:00 a.m.) only up to 68, so the day has much promise! Of course, my second cup of coffee, and the fact that, finally, I got pictures of knitting taken yesterday help with that outlook, to be sure. More on the knitting later today, but here is my poetry for Monday.

I've been making my way through The Complete Poems of D. H. Lawrence, 1885–1930, Penguin Classics edition, 1993. Lawrence is yet another of the relatively few 20th Century authors I read regularly. His blunt address of life, death, sex, and the power of the internal life of people ties him to another poet I enjoy, John Wilmot, Earl of Rochester 1647-1680. But more of him next week.

While many of Lawrence's poems are designed to shock an startle people, here is a selection I found very apt to a knitting blog.
This is from the collection Pansies:


Whatever man makes and makes it live
lives because of the life put into it
A yard of India muslin is alive with Hindu life.
And a Navajo woman, weaving her rug in the pattern of her dream
must run the pattern out in a little break at the hem
so that her soul can come out, back to her.

But in the odd pattern, like snake-marks on the sand it leaves its trail.

1 comment:

Erssie said...

Where did that informaiton come from about the Navajo women and their blanket weaving? I would love to know the source