04-19-2014, 05:52 PM
1st edit
Introspection Stays Home
“When Rosemary awoke that day,” the storyteller said,
“Self indulgent Introspection lay back a while in bed,
and yawned and stretched and sighed aloud at having to get up.
Rosemary went into the kitchen, filled her coffee cup.
Then she and Introspection went out on the balcony
to catch the morning sunshine and canary melody;
but the bird today was mute, too preoccupied to sing,
for it had grown obsessed with its reflection in the ring
and it barely noticed Rosemary when she came to sit
but fiddled with the mirror and fussed around with it.
Then Introspection sat beside and stroked her on the cheek
and surfaced in her memories of the things she’d thought that week,
and things she had forgot to do while in his arms she lay
contemplating her existence as she’d done every day.
A negative Narcissus disenchanted with her soul
unhappy with the smallest parts, unhappy with the whole,
full of her woeful contemplations, sadly she sat there
then Introspection ran his subtle fingers through her hair.
He showed her the canary, mirror mad and out of song
and whispered “Sweet you’ve been alone at home with me too long,
your pecking at the mirror just won’t change the face you see.”
Then Rosemary went out and found some other company,
said “I’ve grown too melancholy, it really is absurd”
and Introspection stayed at home and whistled to the bird.”
Original
Introspection Stays Home
“When Rosemary awoke that day,” the storyteller said,
“Self indulgent Introspection lay back a while in bed,
and yawned and stretched and sighed aloud at having to get up
while Rosemary in the kitchen filled up her coffee cup.
Then she and Introspection went out on the balcony
to catch the morning sunshine and canary melody;
But the bird today was mute, too preoccupied to sing,
the bird had grown obsessed with its reflection in the ring
and it barely noticed Rosemary when she came to sit
but fiddled with the mirror and fussed around with it.
Then Introspection sat beside and stroked her on the cheek
and surfaced in her memories of the things she’d thought that week,
and things she had forgot to do while in his arms she lay
contemplating her self-image as she’d done every day.
A negative Narcissus disenchanted with her soul
unhappy with the smallest parts, unhappy with the whole,
full of her woeful contemplations, sadly she sat there
then Introspection ran his subtle fingers through her hair
and showed her the canary, mirror mad and out of song
and whispered “Sweet you’ve been alone at home with me too long
and pecking at the mirror just won’t change the face you see.”
Then Rosemary went out and found some other company,
said “I’ve grown too melancholy, it really is absurd”
And Introspection stayed at home and whistled to the bird.
Introspection Stays Home
“When Rosemary awoke that day,” the storyteller said,
“Self indulgent Introspection lay back a while in bed,
and yawned and stretched and sighed aloud at having to get up.
Rosemary went into the kitchen, filled her coffee cup.
Then she and Introspection went out on the balcony
to catch the morning sunshine and canary melody;
but the bird today was mute, too preoccupied to sing,
for it had grown obsessed with its reflection in the ring
and it barely noticed Rosemary when she came to sit
but fiddled with the mirror and fussed around with it.
Then Introspection sat beside and stroked her on the cheek
and surfaced in her memories of the things she’d thought that week,
and things she had forgot to do while in his arms she lay
contemplating her existence as she’d done every day.
A negative Narcissus disenchanted with her soul
unhappy with the smallest parts, unhappy with the whole,
full of her woeful contemplations, sadly she sat there
then Introspection ran his subtle fingers through her hair.
He showed her the canary, mirror mad and out of song
and whispered “Sweet you’ve been alone at home with me too long,
your pecking at the mirror just won’t change the face you see.”
Then Rosemary went out and found some other company,
said “I’ve grown too melancholy, it really is absurd”
and Introspection stayed at home and whistled to the bird.”
Original
Introspection Stays Home
“When Rosemary awoke that day,” the storyteller said,
“Self indulgent Introspection lay back a while in bed,
and yawned and stretched and sighed aloud at having to get up
while Rosemary in the kitchen filled up her coffee cup.
Then she and Introspection went out on the balcony
to catch the morning sunshine and canary melody;
But the bird today was mute, too preoccupied to sing,
the bird had grown obsessed with its reflection in the ring
and it barely noticed Rosemary when she came to sit
but fiddled with the mirror and fussed around with it.
Then Introspection sat beside and stroked her on the cheek
and surfaced in her memories of the things she’d thought that week,
and things she had forgot to do while in his arms she lay
contemplating her self-image as she’d done every day.
A negative Narcissus disenchanted with her soul
unhappy with the smallest parts, unhappy with the whole,
full of her woeful contemplations, sadly she sat there
then Introspection ran his subtle fingers through her hair
and showed her the canary, mirror mad and out of song
and whispered “Sweet you’ve been alone at home with me too long
and pecking at the mirror just won’t change the face you see.”
Then Rosemary went out and found some other company,
said “I’ve grown too melancholy, it really is absurd”
And Introspection stayed at home and whistled to the bird.