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

Thursday, December 18, 2014

Necessity Irritates

For an unknowable reason I needed glass after glass of water. The mouth and throat seemed insatiable—unsatisfied for numerous moments, frequent returns to the faucet for more, always more.
Experiencing one of those blank moments, when the page controls the flow of consciousness. That is, the blank page overwhelms, results in a blank mind. Too obvious a connection? Perhaps. But the day developed along a typical mundane path: Visited church service. Drove to the grocery store. Had lunch with my folks. Graded papers at school for a few hours. Read the newspaper after dinner. So, now, a weighted irritation lowers over me. An expectation I suppose. How to become more aware of the time? That fragmentary element which pulses loudly one moment. Then lies silent.
For three or more days my grandmother’s wall clock has been stuck at three. Every so often I step up to wind it for another series of hours—but something distracts me from finalizing the thought: phone call, secondary chore, the cat whining in the hall.
Burgundy red pears. Violent color in the market. Luminous. Amorphous patterns hulking in their crates. Cycles of repetition. Poems unto themselves.

Brendan rubbed both of his hands across my three-day-old beard— rubbing the unshaven white burr of hair into a static notion. Don’t shave this, he said. Then laughed.
In the fold of my arm, a bruise expands. Dark purple stain.

—so, now, a weighted irritation lowers over me.
Nurses had drawn blood for routine tests for an end of the year follow-up. Despite the causal nature of it all, the necessity irritates.
The light on the front porch blinds, spills over into the bedroom. Glaring presence. Insistent message.

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