He fumbles at your Soul
As Players at the Keys
Before they drop full Music on
He stuns you by degrees
Prepares your brittle Nature
For the Ethereal Blow
By fainter Hammers – further heard
Then nearer – Then so slow
Your Breath has time to straighten
Your Brain – to bubble Cool
Deals – One – imperial – Thunderbolt
That scalps your naked Soul
When Winds take Forest in their Paws
The Universe is still
Emily Dickinson ~ He Fumbles At Your Soul (1862)
This site contains mature content suitable for 18+. If you are a minor or this type of content is prohibited where you live, please leave. There may be things here that some people may find objectionable. Move along don't whinge.
© 2009 vanillaimpaired.com. All Rights Reserved.
This blog is powered by lint otherwise known as dust bunnies and various other mythical creatures.
Why write boring crap in the footer when you could write something utterly ridiculous and make people giggle instead.
P.S If you have discovered the location of the sock monster; please advise immediately as my valuable stripey sock fetish is being compromised.
nilla
on Jan 5th, 2010
@ 03:50:
great pic, and how interesting that Dickenson wrote that. Because of the pic you placed with it, I got such a different take on that bit of prose than i would have w/o the pic….nice head fuck, impy!
nilla
vanimp
on Jan 5th, 2010
@ 21:35:
Hehe shes most definitely a brilliant writer