<body><script type="text/javascript"> function setAttributeOnload(object, attribute, val) { if(window.addEventListener) { window.addEventListener('load', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }, false); } else { window.attachEvent('onload', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }); } } </script> <div id="navbar-iframe-container"></div> <script type="text/javascript" src="https://apis.google.com/js/platform.js"></script> <script type="text/javascript"> gapi.load("gapi.iframes:gapi.iframes.style.bubble", function() { if (gapi.iframes && gapi.iframes.getContext) { gapi.iframes.getContext().openChild({ url: 'https://www.blogger.com/navbar/6961444287817385772?origin\x3dhttp://flotsonish.blogspot.com', where: document.getElementById("navbar-iframe-container"), id: "navbar-iframe" }); } }); </script><script type="text/javascript"> function setAttributeOnload(object, attribute, val) { if(window.addEventListener) { window.addEventListener("load", function(){ object[attribute] = val; }, false); } else { window.attachEvent('onload', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }); } } </script> <iframe src="http://www.blogger.com/navbar.g?targetBlogID=6961444287817385772&amp;blogName=flotson&amp;publishMode=PUBLISH_MODE_FTP&amp;navbarType=BLUE&amp;layoutType=CLASSIC&amp;homepageUrl=http%3A%2F%2Fflotson.us%2F&amp;searchRoot=http%3A%2F%2Fblogsearch.google.com%2F" marginwidth="0" marginheight="0" scrolling="no" frameborder="0" height="30px" width="100%" id="navbar-iframe" title="Blogger Navigation and Search"></iframe>
CURRENT
ARCHIVES
- FLANERIE
- O'NAUTICA
- L'ABYME
ABOUT
image

Arrival
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
| older »
| older »
| older »
| older »
| older »
| older »
| older »
| older »
| older »
Then I found myself
inside a house. How the daylight hushed,
sipping at the windowsills, reminded me
of other rooms, a familiar scent

of apples. Do you remember
his old projector, your iron stove?
The hundreds of pale, Victorian roses
you tried to mend, your mouth full of pins?

Rooms where he tried
on faultless afternoons, at the piano, or the saw?
When the rains came we slept in the cellar
with the turtles, in their resinous silence.

If it was not that house, it held
as still, while morning settled
on the blue bay in the Chinese fire screen,
where the boatman leaned into the room
and I was a fleck on that horizon.