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

Saturday, May 17, 2014

Memory Evaporating

It is easy to fall out of the habitual cycle of writing, some weeks. Oftentimes I have no real excuse— but the last three days my attention focuses elsewhere: some school work, family business, bills.

Tonight my knee throbs, even with medication supplied by the doctor. There was an x-ray completed, two appointments, blood work drawn— I resent the fact my body knots around itself, unpredictably. I smell of muscle creams and aspirin tonics. My leg needs to be wrapped. I have to be cautious climbing stairs.
This afternoon I pinned back the yellow jasmine. It wilts a little since the planting. Some tips of the stray strands turned brown. I pruned back some shoots, encouraged some greenery around the trellis. Considered twisting the event into a poem— with major rearranging of perception and metaphor— but then, perhaps—
Rearranged a manuscript to submit out this month. I dislike the notion of cannibalizing other projects to meet the expectations of a small press’ guidelines. Yet. I want a book published.
105/ First line of a poem written in fading ink.

Water.

Memory evaporating.

2 comments:

  1. I'd love to see a photo or drawing of the jasmine.
    Good luck with the knee and the book.
    For your book, perhaps you can get past the word cannibalism and call it recycling?
    LOL! That was meant with love, Glen so please don't roll you eyes at the comment. We all gotta give a little to get what we want. right?

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  2. The jasmine stopped flowering the day I planted it— a number of weeks ago. They are a stubborn plant. Tried again to tie it back strategically to the trellis, in a more "artistic" fashion but the shoots began arguing against the ties. Maybe by mid-summer it will connect to the main wooden posts of the backyard fence.

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