a new year

A New Year - fresh and washed by rain, glistening with promise either false or true. Another 365 days for us to make or break as we choose.

And, to compensate for the general New Year cheesiness, here's something a friend wrote in an email:

"I hope 2006 is decent. Actually what the hell, let 2006 be what it wants to be."

Also, a poem. i never thought that Sylvia Plath would ever make it to these pages, but, here it is: written for her child just over a year before her suicide:


New Year on Dartmoor

This is newness: every little tawdry
Obstacle glass-wrapped and peculiar,
Glinting and clinking in a saint's falsetto. Only you
Don't know what to make of the sudden slippiness,
The blind, white, awful, inaccessible slant.
There's no getting up it by the words you know.
No getting up by elephant or wheel or shoe.
We have only come to look. You are too new
To want the world in a glass hat.

(Sylvia Plath)
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