Love Letters

I wish men still wrote poetically to women and that women could reply. Hell, I wish people still wrote letters in general. I am determined to write to Iszy while she is at camp in NY.

Still, there's something about taking the time to construct a letter as a piece of art to be deciphered and appreciated by the one/s you love most that is...romantic.

I recently watched Bright Star and as a result, I decided to read Brigh Star, the book of love letters and poems by John Keats to Fanny Brawne. I am trying not to rush through them and only to read 1 per day. It's difficult to restrain myself.

Here are 2 excerpts from the first letter in the book. The first I connected with, because sometimes you are in a wonderful place with wonderful people, but it still isn't the same. It's hard to explain, but everything seems duller. It's not quite as beautiful or brilliant. As for the second quote, I admire his use of butterflies. It's not overdramatic, but a colorful illustration of his pure love for her.

"I do not know how elastic my spirit might be, what pleasure I might have in living here and breathing and wandering as free as a stag about this beautiful Coast if the remembrance of you did not weight so upon me." - John Keats

"For myself I know not how to express my devotion to so fair a form: I want a brighter word than bright, a fairer word than fair. I almost wish we were butterflies and liv'd but three summer days - three such days with you I could fill with more delight than fifty common years could ever contain." - John Keats

Bottoms Up

Bottoms Up - Reworked as of 11/05/09. This should be the final form. Don't assume it relates to me.

He perceives the world
From the bottom of a beer bottle
Through golden liquor, sloshing unsteadily
His gaze rises to the bottleneck window.

From the bottom of a beer bottle
A golden filter frames the scene
His gaze rises to the bottleneck window
Sunny smiles, Rowdy company.

A golden filter frames the scene
Bubbling laughter, “Cheers!”
Sunny smiles, Rowdy company,
Heat of the moment.

Bubbling laughter, “Cheers!”
Heat of the liquor,
Heat of the moment
Relax his shoulders, slump.

Heat of the liquor
Dull flames weave through his body
Relax his shoulders, slump
Burying his reason.

Dull flames weave through his body,
Late night memories fade
His reason, buried
Black overcomes his vision.

Late night memories fade
Shards fracture and shoot across eyelids
Black overcomes his reason
Bright beams assail two pupils.

Shards fracture and shoot across eyelids,
Pressure builds
Bright beams assail two pupils
Until, shattering glass fills his dark matter.

Pressure builds
His empty stomach rebels
Shattering glass fills his dark matter
Gut rejecting stale beer.

His empty stomach rebels
Head ducked between knees
Gut rejecting stale beer
He stands, swaying.

Head ducked between knees, eyes shut
Against golden liquor, sloshing unsteadily
Silence fills empty space, between discarded brown glasses
He perceives the world.