Friday, February 1, 2008

birth, yes, day


I like this birthday cake picture. I want to grab a handful of it and squish it in my fingers - I always have that weird urge when I see a cake. My birthday is next week. I love my birthday and wish it lasted a whole month. One week and one day to go! I'll be 33! It's on a Saturday this year. I shall proclaim it my day of sloth.

Here is a pretty poem by Sylvia Plath.

-Overnight, very
Whitely, discreetly,
Very quietly
-Our toes, our noses
Take hold on the loam,
Acquire the air.
-Nobody sees us,
Stops us, betrays us;
The small grains make room.
-Soft fists insist on
Heaving the needles,
The leafy bedding,
-Even the paving.
Our hammers, our rams,
Earless and eyeless,
-Perfectly voiceless,
Widen the crannies,
Shoulder through holes. We
-Diet on water,
On crumbs of shadow,
Bland-mannered, asking
-Little or nothing.
So many of us!
So many of us!
-We are shelves, we are
Tables, we are meek,
We are edible,
-Nudgers and shovers
In spite of ourselves.
Our kind multiplies:
-We shall by morning
Inherit the earth.
Our foot's in the door

--Sylvia Plath

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