(no subject)
Mar. 5th, 2003 09:57 amArticulacy of fingers, the language of the deaf and dumb, signing on the body body longing. Who taught you to write in blood on my back? Who taught you to use your hands as branding irons? You have scored your name into my shoulders, referenced me with your mark. The pads of your fingers have become printing blocks, you tap a message on to my skin, tap meaning into my body. Your morse code interferes with my heart beat. I had a steady heart beat before I met you, I relied upon it, it had seen active service and grown strong. Now you alter its pace with your own rhythm, you play upon me, drumming me taut. ~ Jeanette Winterson, Written on the Body
Why Do You Sleep With Girls?
Date: 2003-09-16 08:03 am (UTC)(Jeannette Winterson, 1998)
Ruth
Date: 2003-10-19 10:30 am (UTC)Not in servility, but homage sweet,
Gladly inclined:-and with my bended knee
Think that my inward spirit bows to thee-
More proud indeed than when I stand or climb
Elsewhere:-there us no stature so sublime
As Love's in all the world, and e'en to kiss
The pedestal is still a better bliss
Than all ambitions. O! Love's lowest base
Is far above the reaching of disgrace
To shame this posture. Let me then draw nigh
Feet that have fared so nearly to the sky,
And when this duteous homage has been given
I will rise up and clasp the heart in Heaven.
~ Thomas Hood (1799-1845)