Words

As mentioned, I've been doing a lot of writing of late.  And although it's academic rather than creative, this bit really got me this week:

Human speech is like a cracked tin kettle,
on which we hammer out tunes to make bears dance when we long to move the stars.- Gustave Flaubert

But a few magicians seem to manage the latter. My favorite? Neruda. Oh, Neruda.

Come with me, I said, and no one knew
where, or how my pain throbbed,
no carnations or barcaroles for me,
only a wound that love had opened.

I said it again: Come with me, as if I were dying,
and no one saw the moon that bled in my mouth
or the blood that rose into the silence.
O Love, now we can forget the star that has such thorns!

That is why when I heard your voice repeat
Come with me, it was as if you had let loose
the grief, the love, the fury of a cork-trapped wine

the geysers flooding from deep in its vault:
in my mouth I felt the taste of fire again,
of blood and carnations, of rock and scald.

Pablo Neruda, Come With Me I Said and No One Knew

and something interesting:

My favorites are the German and the Gaelic. You?'

And now, back to my words! The finish line is in sight!