Dedicated to snatches of song that can sum up your state of mind at that moment.
To those song-
writers and poets who string words together that anyone can own.
To my own pen, that can create pieces of song, though rare...
Wednesday, December 26, 2007
hmm?
I was born for this I was born to hustle roses down the avenues of the dead.
~last lines from a Bukowski poem. I don't know what these lines mean but for some reason they stuck in my head.
I don't know if it has anything to do with Little Gidding, but in the collective consciousness all links to another, so perhaps. Anyway, it reminded me of the end of Eliot's poem when he uses the rose as a symbol of heaven and the fire as hell. Perhaps Bukowski rushes heaven to the dead. Either way, it is beautiful...
1 comment:
I don't know if it has anything to do with Little Gidding, but in the collective consciousness all links to another, so perhaps. Anyway, it reminded me of the end of Eliot's poem when he uses the rose as a symbol of heaven and the fire as hell. Perhaps Bukowski rushes heaven to the dead. Either way, it is beautiful...
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