The poetry of a sleeping face is not the poetry of Prufrock, who assured us there would be time, there would be time ”To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet.’ No a slumbering countenance is deeply unprepared, unintended for audience. Like an unfinished painting on an easel in a room the artist has just left. It breathes gently, eyes closed, mouth slightly open. Silent, articulate, vulnerable, true.
July 3, 2009
The Poetry Of 
July 3rd, 2009 at 5:46 pm
That was beautiful!