i woke this morning to the sound of wind and weeping,
the remnants of my dreams fled on satin tiptoes
as i buried myself in the sheets..
a day of internal silence, and external cacophony:
every irritating noise you could imagine
flooding in through the open french doors..
still, we crept about in our haze,
planting harlequin pansies, fiery cyclamen,
red roses and cobalt star-asters
birds of paradise, bee-balm and cypress vine..
i swept the dust from the mantle, i laid out the cards
one by one- but not for me as the sun set low behind the trees..
today, a day of stilted diplomacy, and liquid lingerings.
see this film:
-anchoress-
it takes place in the (calamitous) 14th century,
(ah, an age so dear to my heart!)
a young girl is walled up in a tiny cell,
in order to devote her life to the contemplation
of the mysteries of the virgin..
until her mother is denounced as a witch,
and she must dig her way out to save her..
it is beautifully photographed, stark and lush
all at once- the twisting plaits of the virgin,
the beetle on the sackcloth, the goat in the grass-
pornographic visions embroidered on velvet,
rendered in silver and gold thread-
the beating of wings, the dove in captivity:
the eternal sin of woman.

Adam lay ibounden,
Bounden in a bond.
Four thousand winter
Thoght he not too long.
And all was for an appil,
And appil that he tok,
As clerkes finden
Wreten in here book.
Ne hadde the appil take ben,
The appil taken ben,
Ne hadde never our lady
A ben hevene quene.
Blessed be the time
That appil take was,
Therefore we moun singen
Deo gracias.