Saturday, February 25, 2012

floating in some unconscious lymph

I thought all sorts of things before it happened. I had some ideas.

I thought that I would write, I thought that I would write something worthwhile, tonight.

I thought that I would listen to Delia Derbyshire, "The Dreams", I thought that too.

Oh, I also thought that I might watch The Legend of Hell House.

I had these ideas, almost plans, although lacking true determination and fidelity.

But, something changed, in that way, that they do, something changed, I have never liked that old hotel.

And my vision became blurred and

have you ever felt as if you were swimming in yourself? Floating in some unconscious lymph?

I frighten easily maybe, or

live daily with fearful things,

and sometimes grow threadbare,

and must sit down must leave.

I largely forget that I am not always well.

It is easy to forget, when I am in love,

so in love, and with so many things.

Daydreaming of babies and playing,

or laughing, and being so cocksure,

that joke that I wear like a truth,

which is a half-truth,

a Beltane mask.

And so I come to my plans, with several spins like a dancer, with circular vernacular,

I write, write something worthwhile, tonight.

After Satie, then after Debussy, I do listen to Delia Derbyshire, I listen to "Falling".

I think I may be too tired for Hell House. It is eleven-eleven in the evening,

eleven-eleven in the evening, I think of course- make a wish make a wish.

And I do, just in time, knowing it will come true, I have such a love,

Sometimes it feels so thick and perpetual that it could feed until full

every person on Earth lacking in love.

I do not mean that I am strong with love, or that I am weak with love,

I only know it as fact indisputable,

"I'm falling upward."

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