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rejectomorph

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Pointless [Sep. 6th, 2015|07:58 pm]
rejectomorph
The harrowing experience of shopping is done for another week and I can get back to my normal monotony. I haven't yet remembered what I forgot to buy. As the remembering usually happens within an hour or two of returning home perhaps I didn't forget anything this week. I don't know how that rare event would make me feel. Perhaps I'll be distressed at having forgotten to forget anything. The world might grow unreal to me, so little experience do I have with such a situation.

And yet the evening appears to be proceeding in its accustomed fashion, suffering no untoward perturbations. The cats are not running backwards, and the morning birds are not waking and singing. Perhaps everything will be alright, even if it turns out that I have indeed remembered to buy everything I'd intended to buy. Yet I'm sure I'd be able to relax a bit more if I were to recall some item that I will need and fail to find among my stores this week. It's so stressful, waiting for an unknown and possibly nonexistent shoe to drop.




Sunday Verse



Whoever You Are


by Al Purdy


If birds look in the window odd beings
look back and birds must stay birds.
If dogs gaze upward at yellow oblongs
of warmth, bark for admittance
to hot caves high above the street,
among the things with queer fur,
the dogs are turned to dogs, and longing
wags its tail and turns invisible.

Clouds must be clouds always, even if
they’ve not decided what to be at all,
and trees trees, stones stones, unnoticed,
the magic power of anything is gone.
But sometimes when the moonlight disappears,
with you in bed and nodding half awake,
I have not known exactly who you were,
and choked and could not speak your name. . .

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Comments:
[User Picture]From: annina_writes
2015-09-08 06:30 am (UTC)

Shopping and poetry...

You forgot to forget? Congratulations!

What a marvelous poem...thank you for including it. I'm glad to hear that the Ridge is cooling down somewhat. Here in Pensacola it is still hot, rains nearly every day (I'm not bragging...sorry), and the humidity is thick enough to see.
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[User Picture]From: flying_blind
2015-09-08 07:17 pm (UTC)

Re: Shopping and poetry...

After three years of drought and semi-drought, I'd be glad of rain every day— at least for a while. This year I'm not the only one with a dead lawn, though. I've been leaving mine mostly unwatered for three years, but this year watering lawns was officially forbidden. Proof that I wasn't a freak, just ahead of my time!
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[User Picture]From: daisydumont
2015-09-08 06:59 pm (UTC)
Sometimes when I read a poem, I have no idea what's happening. Like that one. Yellow oblongs of warmth? Hmm. I must think like a cat.

Did you remember what you forgot? Or was there nothing left out?
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[User Picture]From: flying_blind
2015-09-08 07:30 pm (UTC)
I haven't remembered anything yet, though I still might, probably when I'm in the middle of cooking something and discover that a key ingredient is missing.

I took the yellow oblongs of warmth to be lighted windows. I once had a dog who would look up at my window, probably wishing he could come in, but he was strictly an outdoor dog. That line made me think of him. Poor old Sparky. He's now been dead several times longer than he was alive.
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