The LaughingMaus

I had letters to write:
Dear Sir, I would like to introduce myself
and to thank you for your time and attention.
Love, oh dearest love, the old bat told me
you are a rogue and a curl.
I don't believe her though, Sir.
P.S. And so what if you are!

Hope you get well soon, Mom.
Please don't forget you must arrive at your
a dentist's appointment on Thursday
the third of June before ten o'clock in the morning.
1+2+234=237

Imagine that. Still two hundred thirty-seven.
I excelled at addition and subtraction
as they are sublime when shopping and cooking,
for counting my change or doubling my recipe when
hungry friends came unexpectedly for dinner.

I had friends, yes I did - and we got drunk
on Tawny Port from time to time, but we didn't throw up
like the boys who drank whiskey did and
I called these erstwhile friends of mine with the help of
an address book with pansys on the cover
filled with telephone numbers from people I don't even
know anymore written in forty different colors of ink.

If I liked you very much, or was feeling lazy I
just memorized your number by playing
with the patterns that shifted one against another.
But that was before we had computers.

- Nancy Carroll

A skeleton key
A wooden door
A red notebook
A glass of wine
A wooden ornament
A crocodile
A photo of you
A rock or two
What good is an alter
without a crocodile
and a rock or two?

for biting, biting skeletons
and throwing at dwarfs
hiding behind the door
for letting out terror
and giving a hiding

and why, why?
it's very simple
it's love.

- Nancy Carroll

The grey heaving sea
squirms in it’s fishiness
creating fogs of dirty rags
and other foolishness
in my bathroom.

My washing machine
is broken.

- Nancy Carroll

Inspired by this paragraph at : Dale’s blog

“And then when the sun drops over the horizon you forget all this. You look at the gray heaving sea, and you say—oh yes, how foolish! the sea isn’t made of water; it’s made of fog. And the fog is made of dirty rags. Everyone knows that.”

With one wing she is falling

A body is calling.
Laughing, and crawling,
walking and talking,
blinking and thinking.

Learning yearning and burning.
First driving, then wiving,
and all through the waiting,
the aging and mating…

The tears she’s been crying,
are because she knows flying.

- Nancy Carroll

If I die, survive me with such sheer force
that you waken the furies of the pallid and the cold,
from south to south lift your indelible eyes,
from sun to sun dream through your singing mouth.
I don’t want your laughter or your steps to waver,
I don’t want my heritage of joy to die.
Don’t call up my person. I am absent.
Live in my absence as if in a house.
Absence is a house so vast that inside
you will pass through its walls
and hang pictures on the air
Absence is a house so transparent
that I, lifeless, will see you, living,
and if you suffer, my love, I will die again.

-Pablo Neruda

More Info:

Thanks to Whiskey River :: Pablo Neruda – Biography