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rejectomorph

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My Ducks Were Not in a Row [Jul. 3rd, 2011|06:50 pm]
rejectomorph
How inattentive and forgetful I've become! Last Tuesday was the tenth anniversary of this journal, and I forgot it. I'd been watching the date, too, but it slipped by nonetheless, and all I wrote about was the rain and the fact that my metaphorical ducks were not in a row. Ten years of entries rated not a mention, presumably because they rated not a thought that day.

It's not that I was living too much in the moment, either, as I can barely focus on the now these days. I was off somewhere I now don't even recall, and only dragged my consciousness into Tuesday long enough to note that it was overcast and wet. I wonder if I'm keeping a journal in some alternate reality where I go when I'm not paying attention to this one? I'd like to know what goes on there, where my mind now spends so much of its time.




Sunday Verse


For a Naturalist Dead at Sea


by Adrienne Rich


We'll not deplore you, though we know what's gone
The sea in no laborious swell can haul
Back on our beaches; such a freight as yours
Will never deck our tideline. Out of love
You gathered learning, and your human kin
If loved no more than conches, than the race
Of crayfish or the childish porpoises,
Were yet well loved by you. We mourn to hear
Of bridegrooms gathered nightward by the gales,
Of boon companions chug-a-lugging brine,
Lost to the red interior, the benign
Circle of beer-lit faces. You, our friend
Were still the friend of all that crept or swam:
We cannot think you lonely where you end.

Why should we call you shoreward? You will speak
With the drowned captain drifting by the shoal
On which his ship was broken; you will hear
The lonely scuffle of the hermit crab
Seeking an empty tenement. The trail
Of nets and anchors off the human coast
Will not detain you, nor the squeak of rudders
Far overhead. Oh, you will loaf and drowse
By fans of seaweed nodding in the stir
Of ocean currents. You will drink the cream
Of the great wetnurse whale, and hear from her
The lullabies that make leviathan dream.

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Comments:
[User Picture]From: daisydumont
2011-07-04 12:15 pm (UTC)
belated happy 10th lj-versary to you! mine will be in early november. ten years is a long time, with so much water under the bridge, to coin a phrase.

if you ever run across that alternate journal, you could cross-post some of it here, for comparison's sake.
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[User Picture]From: flying_blind
2011-07-05 03:43 am (UTC)
Thanks. Yes, ten years is a very long time. It's like a century, in Internets time.

I suspect that, should I ever discover the alternate journal, it would be so much better than this one that I'd be loath to reveal its contents.
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