Wednesday, January 23, 2013

23 enero 2013

we’re not yet ready to leave

I did a bout of weeding
Mike finished his outdoor tasks

I cooked everything
we ate roasted squash, jook, & ribs

I introduced Glen to sewing circle
gave away lots of veg
ate three delicious kinds of cookies

now to wash the dishes

then coffee
before I pack

The sense of becoming disturbingly real to yourself, that point where the interior conversations begin, like daylight picking its way over a bridge, over there to the further shore to shine its brightest. The difficult shell halved and the sparse interior looked into, a voice appearing and disappearing with the light that fell on one’s single self. Difficult to arrange this monodony. A necessity, the act of discovering where the self starts, hears, itself, and repeats the instructions. [BarbaraGuest]

Once More (Sleep)

Sleep in its rounded mound,
soft and ashy.
Sleep — feathers of the unformed —
and ample to fill a pillowcase, then
blow from its seams
the indentation of the head that never was.


A summons
reneged. That drowsing
finger, charcoaled,
smears off the first letter
of any word’s repose,

of the soft powder
fills in the impression.


One site in the alphabet
needs mending.

What might be provender
releases its dissimilar

twin: empty hourglass

Corybantic silence,

unravel the echoes stitch
by stitch to make such cloak

then wear it. As in the gait,
uneven, “of a man forever in fear of falling”

so as to see to
the restoration of that letter.

Death’s doppelgänger
is truth.

But do not believe that madness has ever left us. Like pain, it lies in wait for us at each stage, I mean each time we run up against the word hidden in the word, the being buried in the being. [Edmond Jabés] . . .

now we're ready

expect my next post from Chile


  1. those types of poems are really difficult bravo

  2. Safe voyage! Does that Sleep poem belong to Guest (isn't she interesting!) or is it yours> Not sure who does what in all this wonderfulness. Eager to hear Chile.

  3. The poems "Once More (Sleep)" & "I" are written by Elizabeth Robinson