Those of you who hate literary quotes on Facebook: Go screw. I was taken with this passage, and felt like sharing it, so thats what Im doing. The Cyclone, howling because one of the lances / of a flinging palm has narrowly grazed his one eye, / wades knee-deep in troughs. As he blindly advances, // Lightning, his stilt-walking messenger, jiggers the sky / with his forked stride, or he crackles over the troughs / like a split electric wishbone. His wife, Ma Rain, // hurls buckets from the balcony of her upstairs house. / She shakes the sodden mops of the palms and once again / changes her furniture, the cloud-sofas grumbling casters // not waking the sun. -- Derek Walcott (claiming the Homeric for Saint Lucia), Omeros
Posted on: Fri, 18 Apr 2014 20:32:39 +0000
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