after Douglas Sirk<\/em><\/p>\n Take me to the country club in my red dress. Fix me a Martini\u2014Dry\u2014 O take me, please, to the clinic in Zurich. I cannot see to see! Be my gardener, look what my eyeballs are doing now! and then some (uh, OK, that\u2019s Jane Wyman). O, you. Magnificent. Obsession.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n Away with the birds! I was away. Love after Douglas Sirk Take me to the country club in my red dress. Make me locally infamous. Fix me a Martini\u2014Dry\u2014 I am getting weepy. I almost want to die. O take me, please, to the clinic in Zurich. I\u2019m not being ironic\u2014 I cannot see to see! You\u2014you have blinded me! Be my […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":181,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_is_tweetstorm":false,"jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":[]},"categories":[338,339],"tags":[342],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"yoast_head":"\n
\nMake me locally infamous.<\/p>\n
\nI am getting weepy. I almost want to die<\/em>.<\/p>\n
\nI\u2019m not being ironic<\/em>\u2014<\/p>\n
\nYou\u2014you have blinded me!<\/p>\n
\nand I can make the moves like Lana Turner:<\/p>\n
\nThis is all that heaven allows,<\/p>\n
\nDon\u2019t say I am, I am a poor imitation\u2014<\/p>\nAway with the birds<\/h4>\n
\nOr so they said. But, ah! In truth,
\nthe mind was a nineteenth-century
\nvaletudinarian\u2014chairbound,
\nearthbound\u2014beholding the garden
\nin which the seasons played
\ntheir part remorselessly. I watched
\nthe birds with no time for me.
\nAway they went. And although they
\ndid not love me and had, no doubt,
\nbetter places to be, I grieved for
\nmy birds. Such is the quality of desire.
\nAnd although I rail at others\u2019 dreams,
\nI must tell you of the night a man
\ncame to me and presented a plate
\non which all good things were laid.
\nO, my friends\u2014for once, I ate.
\nAnd what was left was this gift:
\nthe figure of a small bird, so artlessly
\nrendered I could hear its bounding heart.
\n <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"