Friday, November 27, 2009

Poetry Friday

What we speak

Becomes the house we live in.

Who will want to sleep in your bed
If the roof leaks right above it?

Look what happens when the tongue
Cannot say to kindness,

"I will be your slave."

The moon covers her face with both hands
And cannot bear to look.

~Hafiz

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Currently re-reading:

The Magic Circle
by Donna Jo Napoli