Sunday, February 12, 2006

"When I am dead, I hope it may be said: "His sins were scarlet, but his books were read."

I don't check my email much on the weekend-
I'm usually out doing other stuff.

Tonight, there's a bit too share.

Yes I love talking animals, but everyone can stop sending me clips.
That said, here's the last one-its for a new Mt Dew energy drink.

And as it is soon Valentine's Day, thought I'd share InstaSong.
Through a series of drop down menus, you can create and preview a song for a particular occasion, and for a specific named person.

Then, a Plath poem sent by my mentee, who just had her first work published.

Female Author

All day she plays at chess with the bones of the world:
Favored (while suddenly the rains begin
Beyond the window) she lies on cushions curled
And nibbles an occasional bonbon of sin.

Prim, pink-breasted, feminine, she nurses
Chocolate fancies in rose-papered rooms
Where polished higboys whisper creaking curses
And hothouse roses shed immortal blooms.

The garnets on her fingers twinkle quick
And blood reflects across the manuscript;
She muses on the odor, sweet and sick,
Of festering gardenias in a crypt,

And lost in subtle metaphor, retreats
From gray child faces crying in the streets.


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