Self and reality. Symbol and language. Myth and image. Memory and consciousness.
Dream and unreality: locus communis.

Monday, August 23, 2010


Two poems from two different moments of the same day: midafternoon and then evening. The first developed after another series of hours grading, reading flawed research papers, and grading again. After the rain storms, I walked over to the mail center, feeling the last few remaining stages of water lessen slowly, decreasing in intensity, until nothing. The world was humid. Water lay everywhere. A chimney swift did circle once or twice, directly in front of me, with tight, angular wings, coffee colored chest.

Failures of the day
constrict in the throat, until—
look! A chimney swift!

Reading poems in bed.
Quietly turning pages—
as you mumble. Snore.

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