What They Did Yesterday Afternoon
they set my aunts house on fire
i cried the way women on tv do
folding at the middle
like a five pound note.
i called the boy who use to love me
tried to ‘okay’ my voice
i said hello
he said warsan, what’s wrong, what’s happened?
i’ve been praying,
and these are what my prayers look like;
i come from two countries
one is thirsty
the other is on fire
both need water.
later that night
i held an atlas in my lap
ran my fingers across the whole world
where does it hurt?
My prime of youth is but a frost of cares;
My feast of joy is but a dish of pain,
My crop of corn is but a field of tares,
And all my good is but vain hope of gain:
The day is past, and yet I saw no sun,
And now I live, and now my life is done.
My tale was heard, and yet it was not told,
My fruit is fallen, and yet my leaves are green,
My youth is spent, and yet I am not old,
I saw the world, and yet I was not seen:
My thread is cut, and yet it is not spun,
And now I live, and now my life is done.
I sought my death, and found it in my womb,
I looked for life, and saw it was a shade,
I trod the earth, and knew it was my tomb,
And now I die, and now I was but made;
The glass is full, and now the glass is run,
And now I live, and now my life is done.
The Tempest, Act 4, Scene 1
Our revels now are ended. These our actors,
As I foretold you, were all spirits and
Are melted into air, into thin air:
And, like the baseless fabric of this vision,
The cloud-capp’d towers, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
Ye all which it inherit, shall dissolve
And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,
Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff
As dreams are made on, and our little life
Is rounded with a sleep.
Shadow Girl Reconciled
This work is a Cento Poem. It contains the six poems (including titles) submitted to the March-16 Jigsaw Cut-up episode which were written by Stephanie Ellis, Voima Oy, Pleasant Street, F.E. Clark, CR Smith, and Mary Frances.
All of the blue Summer air
and light of the sun leaf-dappled through
Sleeps beyond the tides of time
Ebbing flowing ebbing flowing
Yesterday I was sitting alone
in the purple splendor of that valley
The Dancing Shade
Earth-bound child alone woven in shadow Spun from my heart
My blood My breath
O there goes Sister Sunlight
my secret saltblood lover-bride
Flushing the cheek round rosy ghosts of the red curtained Splendour
She passed me by where nothing wild remained
Supple limb with breast flushing in thy primal breath give me one song
While a deeper music threads through my breast
I hear how the music swells kisses of salt
It swells in harmony with lonely grief
and rose because of the Spring
And in the silent valley dark I merged the song of life and death
Light and darkness sun and star
Grey breakers on a primal reef
Wild-rose kisses everywhere
Sunset eyes of lightflash darkness
wildchild spinning deeper spells making wine of chill blue air
of her laughter cheek so leopard-sleek her dancing blue anklets
Spinning humming bees catch rhythm beyond the tides of Time
to make one old beyond his Time whisper
O Ghost My wandering maid
flickering glistening green-veined gray
so near so clear she rose she ran red curtained in the silken sky
Take my heaven wisdom past knowing a dream of grief
Nothing remained of my dream
and who shall quarrel with her not I earthbound in shadowcloud
here in the dark alone again
being too reconciled to earth grief and the wine
The Prairie-Grass Dividing
The prairie-grass dividing, its special odor breathing,
I demand of it the spiritual corresponding,
Demand the most copious and close companionship of men,
Demand the blades to rise of words, acts, beings,
Those of the open atmosphere, coarse, sunlit, fresh, nutritious,
Those that go their own gait, erect, stepping with freedom and
command, leading not following,
Those with a never-quell’d audacity, those with sweet and lusty
flesh clear of taint,
Those that look carelessly in the faces of Presidents and governors,
as to say Who are you? Those of earth-born passion, simple, never constrain’d, never
Those of inland America.
Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard
The curfew tolls the knell of parting day,
The lowing herd wind slowly o’er the lea,
The plowman homeward plods his weary way,
And leaves the world to darkness and to me.
Now fades the glimm’ring landscape on the sight,
And all the air a solemn stillness holds,
Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight,
And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds;
Save that from yonder ivy-mantled tow’r
The moping owl does to the moon complain
Of such, as wand’ring near her secret bow’r,
Molest her ancient solitary reign.
Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree’s shade,
Where heaves the turf in many a mould’ring heap,
Each in his narrow cell for ever laid,
The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep.
The breezy call of incense-breathing Morn,
The swallow twitt’ring from the straw-built shed,
The cock’s shrill clarion, or the echoing horn,
No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed.
For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn,
Or busy housewife ply her evening care:
No children run to lisp their sire’s return,
Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share.
Oft did the harvest to their sickle yield,
Their furrow oft the stubborn glebe has broke;
How jocund did they drive their team afield!
How bow’d the woods beneath their sturdy stroke!
Let not Ambition mock their useful toil,
Their homely joys, and destiny obscure;
Nor Grandeur hear with a disdainful smile
The short and simple annals of the poor.
The boast of heraldry, the pomp of pow’r,
And all that beauty, all that wealth e’er gave,
Awaits alike th’ inevitable hour.
The paths of glory lead but to the grave.
Nor you, ye proud, impute to these the fault,
If Mem’ry o’er their tomb no trophies raise,
Where thro’ the long-drawn aisle and fretted vault
The pealing anthem swells the note of praise.
Can storied urn or animated bust
Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath?
Can Honour’s voice provoke the silent dust,
Or Flatt’ry soothe the dull cold ear of Death?
Perhaps in this neglected spot is laid
Some heart once pregnant with celestial fire;
Hands, that the rod of empire might have sway’d,
Or wak’d to ecstasy the living lyre.
But Knowledge to their eyes her ample page
Rich with the spoils of time did ne’er unroll;
Chill Penury repress’d their noble rage,
And froze the genial current of the soul.
Full many a gem of purest ray serene,
The dark unfathom’d caves of ocean bear:
Full many a flow’r is born to blush unseen,
And waste its sweetness on the desert air.
Some village-Hampden, that with dauntless breast
The little tyrant of his fields withstood;
Some mute inglorious Milton here may rest,
Some Cromwell guiltless of his country’s blood.
Th’ applause of list’ning senates to command,
The threats of pain and ruin to despise,
To scatter plenty o’er a smiling land,
And read their hist’ry in a nation’s eyes,
Their lot forbade: nor circumscrib’d alone
Their growing virtues, but their crimes confin’d;
Forbade to wade through slaughter to a throne,
And shut the gates of mercy on mankind,
The struggling pangs of conscious truth to hide,
To quench the blushes of ingenuous shame,
Or heap the shrine of Luxury and Pride
With incense kindled at the Muse’s flame.
Far from the madding crowd’s ignoble strife,
Their sober wishes never learn’d to stray;
Along the cool sequester’d vale of life
They kept the noiseless tenor of their way.
Yet ev’n these bones from insult to protect,
Some frail memorial still erected nigh,
With uncouth rhymes and shapeless sculpture deck’d,
Implores the passing tribute of a sigh.
Their name, their years, spelt by th’ unletter’d muse,
The place of fame and elegy supply:
And many a holy text around she strews,
That teach the rustic moralist to die.
For who to dumb Forgetfulness a prey,
This pleasing anxious being e’er resign’d,
Left the warm precincts of the cheerful day,
Nor cast one longing, ling’ring look behind?
On some fond breast the parting soul relies,
Some pious drops the closing eye requires;
Ev’n from the tomb the voice of Nature cries,
Ev’n in our ashes live their wonted fires.
For thee, who mindful of th’ unhonour’d Dead
Dost in these lines their artless tale relate;
If chance, by lonely contemplation led,
Some kindred spirit shall inquire thy fate,
Haply some hoary-headed swain may say,
“Oft have we seen him at the peep of dawn
Brushing with hasty steps the dews away
To meet the sun upon the upland lawn.
“There at the foot of yonder nodding beech
That wreathes its old fantastic roots so high,
His listless length at noontide would he stretch,
And pore upon the brook that babbles by.
“Hard by yon wood, now smiling as in scorn,
Mutt’ring his wayward fancies he would rove,
Now drooping, woeful wan, like one forlorn,
Or craz’d with care, or cross’d in hopeless love.
“One morn I miss’d him on the custom’d hill,
Along the heath and near his fav’rite tree;
Another came; nor yet beside the rill,
Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he;
“The next with dirges due in sad array
Slow thro’ the church-way path we saw him borne.
Approach and read (for thou canst read) the lay,
Grav’d on the stone beneath yon aged thorn.”
Here rests his head upon the lap of Earth
A youth to Fortune and to Fame unknown.
Fair Science frown’d not on his humble birth,
And Melancholy mark’d him for her own.
Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere,
Heav’n did a recompense as largely send:
He gave to Mis’ry all he had, a tear,
He gain’d from Heav’n (’twas all he wish’d) a friend.
No farther seek his merits to disclose,
Or draw his frailties from their dread abode,
(There they alike in trembling hope repose)
The bosom of his Father and his God.
Little Boy Blue
THE little toy dog is covered with dust,
But sturdy and staunch he stands;
The little toy soldier is red with rust,
And his musket moulds in his hands.
Time was when the little toy dog was new,
And the soldier was passing fair;
And that was the time when our Little Boy Blue
Kissed them and put them there.
“Now don’t you go till I come,” he said,
“And don’t you make any noise!” 10
So, toddling off to his trundle bed,
He dreamt of the pretty toys;
And, as he was dreaming, an angel song
Awakened our Little Boy Blue—
Oh! the years are many, the years are long,
But the little toy friends are true!
Ay, faithful to Little Boy Blue they stand,
Each in the same old place,
Awaiting the touch of a little hand,
The smile of a little face;
And they wonder, as waiting the long years through
In the dust of that little chair,
What has become of our Little Boy Blue,
Since he kissed them and put them there.
Adapted from Golgi Outposts Shape Dendrite Morphology by Functioning as Sites of Acentrosomal Microtubule Nucleation in Neurons by Kassandra M. Ori-McKenney and Tent Life in Siberia by George Kennan
Northtubulesf Lesnoi the great central organized of into the dynamicchatka arrays mountains broke offs abruptly into theirectedkhotskvesicular transport and are essential for the proper establishmentongaline of maintenanceprecipiceseuronalerposeditecture rugged wall between us and the steppes of the Wandering Koraks. Nucleating mountain rangeplexes, as very difficulticular, pass necessaryorsesauseespontaneoussummertion of waswoftubulininfinitely worse nowticallythe mountain streams were vivowollen bynd the falln rains vitro foaming torrents, and the storms whichma (λ)eraldulin the ispproach a of wintermponentt be of at anycrotubulement expected. Centers and has a well-established role in Flags nucleating a codeinofle signalsandas agreed uponmasmic heavy baggage was transferredtubules whale-boat and a large sealskin canoe, a Indeed, earlyection onf antibodies against λ-tubulin 4thr I severingMajoroteinsoddnhibited at a the beachtgrowthey inpushedurons Wecultured upfor ourne trainy of vitros (DIV1) he boats disappeared around a projecting bluffsophila cantered away dsas-4 mutantsss thehatvalley lackward acentriolesin theorganization ofthroughdiscwhichronse anderedontheoutgrouthness normal in third-instar larvae I tried, by climbing a low mountain back of Dendritic to get a sightorization sea; but we were neurons fifteenovidets from theexcellent and system was limitedstigating an thinterveninguestion ofeyggedreeaks, manytypewhich reachltipolartudeuronspetualthenowNS ofas Drosophilaly melanogasterat which produce complexingendritic Dodd’ss and doeerful facetain the fireside, and I missed moretrosomes thought I should the lively sallies, comical storeis Whengood-humoured pleasantry which hadfragmentedghtened treatment with nocodazole, long dispersed campGolgi life minitstacks canld still promotethoughtscrotubuleveningucleationsat inndicating thatsty byesee firesideidual wouldinistackseen satisfied thate hisnecessary wasmachineryppreciateducleations absence unfelt. Viushin took Drosophila pains with class preparationurons, ofhe Golgiyoutpostspperear throughout did dendritic arbort includinghewithin thecouldminal branches fellow, to enliven the solitary meal The storieslgiand funnypostsminiscencesy of Kamchatkambrane; but fore venison cutletswingd lostdendrite branchtheiras usuale savourmicsnd ofhe smallern Golgi outpostsies I could note understandighly supper I layorrelatedon mythearsskinsdritehe tentnchingll asleep watchingsion round moon rise over a ragged volcanic unknown eastether of Drosophila valleygi outposts contain nucleation machinery similar Justto mammalianforeGolgi stacksark such machinerychedould a conceivably support microtubule innucleationirectionthineemede to complex absolutely dynamic dendritic by arbora range of high mountains which ran inectlydercross understand itowwashe theicrotubule ridgeytoskeletone is Samankaizedountains branches lookedss IV dendritic arborization (da) neuronse we ofnalyzediringe dynamics ofatEB1-GFP guide, who throughoutdirectlyntireerdendriticangeborand vivo. that there lay we observed that roadlgi outposts correlated birch extended comett formation up thendritentainranchpoints, wasdistalceededps, by and withineenthe terminal branchailingthere, organelles, such as Rab11-positive blackdosomes rising mitochondria did where correlate thethardy1 reindeer-mossmation innd vivo. Enough to bury its roots. Whole, live, third-instar larvae Viushin mounted me inearly 90% theglyceroling under theverslipsouncement with grease and snowingaged us.