everything's amazing and nobody's happy.

Today I am sick in bed, though I did drag myself off to my 11am lecture on the suffragette movements, so in many ways the epic amount of sleeping/telly that I filled the rest of my time with was...totally justified? Anyway, I'm beginning to feel better, so that's good.

I have to go read Twelfth Night in a minute, but I'm just going to chuck some prose poetry about birds up here first. I like prose poetry. I remember reading "If Nobody Speaks of Remarkable Things" a few years ago and being really struck by the realisation that the two things didn't have to be poles apart - that a novel with characters and a plot could read like poetry. I didn't read much poetry at this time, so it was kind of a turning point for you. Also, the first Richard Siken I ever read was a piece of prose poetry called You Are Jeff. I love Siken (the title of this blog comes from a poem of his) and have such a clear memory of reading his writing for the first time and just finding it unspeakably moving. I read You Are Jeff - a bit long to put up here, but I urge you to google it - at about 3am when I was doing my A-levels and a bit overwrought, and I just absolutely bawled my eyes out. Stunning.

Anyway, so here is a short-and-sweet piece of prose poetry, because it doesn't get enough love as a form.

Please Take Back the Sparrows
Suzanne Buffam

Please take back the sparrows. They are bothersome and cute. They are brown and daily all year long. They make a plaything of the wind and the spruce. They come too close. They look right at me with their tiny black eyes. They dart through spaces. They pick up the pieces and the pace. From rooftop to eavetrough to wire to branch — they spring spring spring spring spring spring spring. They are not sorry. They are not singing. Many they are one they are never not somewhere. They are not not singing. They are not slack. They fear the bluejay and the airedale. They drink from the pond! They scatter thinking. They are not asking or telling they are scattering thinking they are shivering. They are awake or they are shivering. Please, take back the sparrows. They bathe in dust.


EDIT: You Are Jeff, in case anyone reading this has a bit of time on their hands & wants to see what I was on about.