gri_2003_m_46_b01_f01_002
- Max. dissimilarity: 1.0
- Mean dissimilarity: 0.909
- Image votes: 0.0
Transcribers
- 65304313 - not-logged-in-64693ada791227ecdb9e
- 65306379 - not-logged-in-98e861c4e0e73aef92a7
- 65309343 - not-logged-in-63aab7c3cf419cfa493a
- WINNER - 65321576 - SarahBe
- 65340254 - not-logged-in-5009750375f16af0fc83
65304313 - not-logged-in-64693ada791227ecdb9e
[N~ao est'a claro][/N~ao est'a claro]65306379 - not-logged-in-98e861c4e0e73aef92a7
65309343 - not-logged-in-63aab7c3cf419cfa493a
WINNER - 65321576 - SarahBe
-2-muse and subject exaltes. There is part of a poem - not quite complete - which was suggested when I woke up first before you in the morning.
No mirror no music no new hats
made from a hand of feathers
no wind disturbing the hair of your head
the smile and the tears do not exist
mirrors have no name for repose
music is silence looking for a name
your hair is perfect as it is
twined on the pillow of your shoulders
The one perched on the stars, the comet
like a run in a woman's stocking.
one
one cancelled by your senses sleeping
Until your eyes your lips your ears wake
I am lost in the world you have lost
Yesterday Johnson and I went to the Indian exhibition: you can imagine the memories this caused - quite, inescapable at eye-level. We had tea with Vanstone and his wife,by the way: Mrs Vanstone is probably coming to your lecture on Wednesday, I am looking forward to this very much: sorry not to have been helpful at the N. G. Friday but my id wouldn't let me spare any attention from you. Formal problems were right out of reach. I'll be more alert intellectually on Wednesday. (O the hell until Sunday, Monday and Tuesday!)
65340254 - not-logged-in-5009750375f16af0fc83
-2-muse and subject matter. Here is part of
a poem - not quite complete - which was
suggested when I woke up just before you
in the morning.
No mirror no music no new hats
made from a hand of feathers
no wind disturbing the hair of your head
the smile & the tear do not exist
Mirrors have no name for repose
Music is silence looking for a name
Your hair is perfect as it is
Burned on the pillow & your shoulders
The owl perched on the star, the comet
like the run in a woman's stocking.
...
are cancelled by your senses sleeping
Until your eyes your lips your ears wake
I am lost in the world you have lost
|________________________________________|
Yesterday Johnson and I went to the Ind-
ian exhibition: you can imagine the memories
this roused - whims, inescapable, at eye-
level. We had tea with Vanistone and his
wife, by the way; our is probably
coming to your lecture on Wednesday. I am
looking forward to this very much. Sorry
not to have been helpful at the N.G. Friday
but my id wouldn't let me spare any attention
from you. Formal problems were right out
of reach. I'll be more alert intellectually on
Wednesday. (O the hell with Sunday, Monday &
Tuesday!)