hi doug, i am sensitive to your two first stanzas, they touch me deeply,
i also like the end, a painting by edward hopper,
take care, must get to brush and clean and move around, ohi ohi, a different
life, anny
> Ruin
>
> I need someone to talk to.
> You were there in my head for twenty years
> But now you don't reply.
> When I read of the autobiographical memory in Damasio
> I feel you nudging me with my questions of the past.
> There are no answers:
> Object relations freeing woman from attachment;
> Extended consciousness sabotaged by inadequate memory.
>
> Winter is suspended for a day,
> My favourite tree has lost its ruddy-brown leaves.
> The Arboretum at Westonbirt must be bare,
> No Aeolian harps.
> Cat flourishes in the last of Autumn sunshine
> Outside, not sleeping on the spare bed.
>
> Last night I sat in the Wintertime
> Under the cold white moon
> Chilling in the November air.
> Telling stories is what it's all about,
> Telling tales. The autobiographical memory.
> My friends are cats
> Skulking in the dark evening,
> A Bonfire rocket climbed the sky
> All effusive colour,
> The cats scattered.
> That is when you get mugged.
>
> Bath was 'The ruin' for the Anglo-Saxon poet:
> 'The work of Giants'.
> I listen to Springsteen's 'The Rising' in this early morning:
> 'My City of Ruins' at the end.
> I am alone. Soon I will be in the pub.
>
>
>
>
> Douglas Clark, Bath, England mailto: [log in to unmask]
> Lynx: Poetry from Bath ..........
http://www.bath.ac.uk/~exxdgdc/lynx.html
>
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