Tuesday, December 05, 2006


Like a handful of smoke, a fistful of water.

You hover over there, just out of sight, and yet I see you.

I do.

I feel that something, that something intangible, I cannot frame the words...

...but you are there, and I linger here.




This brief madness. It seems interminable.

The world in a grain of sand?

Eternity in an hour?

You ask me to live through the minutes. But they stretch, they mutate, they succeed each other.

How hostile the minutes, how unfriendly.

Please come back.

Or let me wake up.


goldennib said...

The minutes are very mean.

QuillDancer said...

Time never conforms to us.

A thinker said...

Separated love? It hurts.

Jenn said...

Nessa: You said it.

Quilly: I wish it would.

A thinker: It does.

frizkybrat said...

hey isnt the eternity in an hour and the world in a grain of sand, lines from winterson? i forgot which book la but im pretty damnably sure its her.

dammit, your blog has gotten me intrigued, tendrils of word lust is setting in, unfortunately official work hours has started but i'll mutter the infamour quote under my breath anyway...

i'll be back.

Jenn said...

Hey Frizkybat, welcome to my blog. I'm pretty sure those lines were from Blake, not Winterson.

DragonRider said...

it has taken me the better part of 3 months to come back here and boy was i glad i did... i had actually bookmarked your blog at work and i was clearing the bookmarks so, ta dah!

your absolutely right, it was from blake.. i reckon winterson was quoting blake. silly me.