April 9: can’t stay awake

April 10, 2013 § Leave a comment

Here it is, midnight. I spent the day in meetings, and unsuccessfully trying to put O. to sleep. Now my classes are ready for tomorrow, and I have no energy left in me. On such days, I pretend I am being creative by pulling out some things I wrote long ago when I had time to think about poetry.  I do long for some semblance of normal living. Sleeping 4-5 hours a night for almost a whole year is bound to do you in.

This from my unpublished manuscript:


21. Religion of found objects #1

There was a nomadic tribe that made detachable altars of white-painted wood.
When in the morning they traveled on
they would pull apart the pieces
rusted nails sticking out
gaping into the heavens
and wrap them in a cloth
most stains on it unidentifiable
the usual ones
sperm and blood but also
magic and oils and more
even gasoline
what went (on) inside the cloth
is now unknown
Some called it the religion of found objects
What they left behind:
rocks and cow dung, doll limbs and dry leaves, handkerchiefs stolen from ladies in caravans
action figures and plush elephants
even dangerous things pills and canes with strange carvings and sharp endings
and sometimes even a small figure of Mary or Jesus they would find tossed (who knows how) but these they didn’t understand: the troubled expressions on their faces




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