Friday, 1/11/2013

Friday begins where Thursday
                              leaps off

because they decided on midnight
                       but mammals must 

MUST sleep

It goes so fast. And then you awake
in the same bed, to the same glass
of water, although the dream
was different

a series of events no longer 
recalled. This happens
day after day. We live with 
the loss because we can't re-
member it. The body dissolved.

Whose body did I have then?

Awoke to the sound of workers
tearing out the water heater.

The next dream was of laundry
and a lack of flu virus, then
shopping for an alarm clock.

By dinner time, they were still
working on the water heater.

It all went so fast: Lucy's
canine muzzle and wet tongue
longing for mammal touch 
through a chain link fence;

a dinner of pizza and salad,
"red wine" and the human
comfort of a wall heater.

And now it's "tomorrow."

Random lines from my bookshelf:

The poem asks: where is the poem? Where is
the poetry located? The poet first identifies a
significant event amounting to an obsession. Is a
truth to be found here? Yes, because this is what
the surroundings themselves consist of.

Unless you ask me I don't know why I do it, I
just do it. I keep feeling for it until I get it right.
It's like reaching for a plug in the dark. If you
need a lamp to plug in the lamp you might get
stuck at the start.

---Nick Piombino, "Automatic Manifesto #5," Theoretical Objects