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Morning Glory

I don't want to write about the world.
How could I write meaningful phrases
About a place I hardly know?
I've sailed across oceans, sure.
I've visited the greatest cities built.
But the world?
I see people who have been there.
They exit as I enter;

Their days begin at the end of mine.
They sit near me at the cafe, in groups,
With things to say.
They speak to others in the world;
That's the difference.
They connect to each other with words,
Sentences stretching out like elastic strings,
Or gravitational membranes
Bending in space and drawing back pieces
That they can keep, suck in like smoke,
Then breathe into others they know.
Nothing I do is like that.
They have energy and memory.
They remember laughter
And the remembering revives it,
Renewed like morning glories.
I think that's what the world is.
I think that's what I mean.

Comments

Di Mackey said…
I love the imagery in this, and the thinking revealed. Nice work!
Patent attorney said…
I love the tensions you explore in writing about not writing! It's very "meta", and I like the way you eventually find some kind of meaning, and it's through writing about it, vindicating writing as a great medium for exploration and philosophy.

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