Reading my past realities finding myself in the same place as before, in hiding. Planning, immersed in my own abyss, staring into nowhere watching worlds unfold
Worlds unfolding back at me, hitting the wall soft and fast, projecting on my forehead
chewing on bones and brain tissue
marching on the backs of my eyes rhythmically like ants
I think you’re there lingering
Lurking on my lips
Though that may have been December, January.
Now you’re as gone as rational thought.
Oozing through 5 am monotony
I’ve tried to cancel the news
I’ve tried to sleep
I have yet to try consistency.
I am remembering the body of someone whose mind speeds too fast for his own soul
And attacks with mysterious noise.
Plaguing and feeding so many pages of the past
Heroic in his criticism.
Night holds no significance, it is but air and notations.
Ginsberg, its hard to eat shit without visions I know,
And now I float above the Arctic Circle eating visions without shit.
Sunday, June 28, 2009
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For Mary.
This is lovely, mysterious, and eloquent. I'm thinking now of my favorite Jimmy Clanton song,and one of my favorite "swamp pop" songs, "Another Sleepless Night", even though it's a long long way from southern Louisiana to the Norwegian arctic.
ReplyDeletehttp://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0hNZmIw3fcY
I talked to my sister in law today, and she told me she had briefly stopped in Bodo, when she took a ship to northern Norway
Thanks so much for your comment on my blog!