Post script

[j4]

Also, I found this scrawled on the corner of a page of a notebook, and had completely forgotten I'd written it, let alone what it was heading towards:

To say that the beloved is beyond the reach of poetry is the oldest trick in the book (or out of it); and to say that it is old and yet it is true in this case, that is the second oldest trick. And yet (at one more remove) this is his beauty and his strength, that he stands calmly to one side of the smooth superlatives of eulogy, he stands aloof from the dance, observing; he will not be verified, he smiles wryly and turns the page, and at that fingertip's touch the page catches fire.

Still true, I reckon.

Comments

[abi]

I do admire your way with words. In fact, one of the reasons I friended you on LJ all those years ago even though we didn't know each other that well in real life was that I'd read some of your posts and thought them beautifully written. You always seem to know a wonderfully evocative way to describe things. I suppose what I'm trying to say is: I like your writing, don't stop posting scraplets like this.

[rysmiel.livejournal.com]

Oh, lovely.

What that echoes off for me is "...cold and passionate as the dawn." fwiw.