August 18, 2007

Who would be a turtle who could help it?
A barely mobile hard roll, a four oared helmet,
She can ill afford the chances she must take
In rowing toward the grasses that she eats.
Her track is graceless, like dragging
A packing case places, and almost any slope
Defeats her modest hopes. Even being practical
She’s often stuck up to the axle on her way
To something edible. With everything optimal,
She skirts the ditch which would convert
Her shell into a serving dish. She lives
Below luck level; never imagining some lottery
Will turn her load of pottery into wings.
Her only levity is patience,
The sport of truly chastened things.
This isn’t really thesis related at all. I took the day off to help a friend move from one apartment to another and haven’t made any progress on research or writing. However, it has come to my attention that I have a new reader. Holly, you liked the poem by Kay Ryan, so here’s another. Its not exactly an upper but I am tired at the end of a rainy day so it appeals to me right now. I think you’ll like the play of words. Its one of my favorites, really, for getting through difficult times.


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