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

Saturday, June 8, 2013

New Rhymings


Without purpose, opened my old copy of the Random House Dictionary to find any word, a casual selection based on chance; landed on loft, loggia, and logic, firm sounding syllables, practical phonetics. Words that lift off the tip of the tongue. Originally I hoped circumstances would provide a short poem from a brief visit to the text— only silence tonight.

Brendan wore himself out today— running in circles, chasing the old cat, dancing with the children’s programming on television— afterwards, carrying him upstairs, he half whispers, half sings: “Twinkle, twinkle, little star—.”

235 / lifting him to bed, half asleep, he whispers in my ear new rhymings— his sweet weight grows heavier in my arms with each new step —

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