I like the slippages & the sly moves between them here, Dominic. If
Coleridge, maybe for some of the tone, but there are lots of more
recent ones in the concert here....
Very different from those fifty word pieces, for sure....
Doug
On 7-Dec-07, at 3:39 PM, Dominic Fox wrote:
> It seemed that you had spent some years abroad,
> practicing yoga, until you had acquired
> marvellous powers: the ability
> to levitate, to vanish and reappear
> at will, to pass unhindered through brick walls.
> This last you demonstrated by breezing
> straight into the door until your mouth
> was on the far side, speaking from the next room.
> Somehow this did not lessen my desire
> to be near you, although the certainty
> of remaining so was more than ever fleeting;
> you could take off at any moment, or sink
> slowly into the floor to escape a conversation
> that had begun once more to bore you.
> Sex would be non-existent, I imagined; a meeting
> of the tangible with the intangible
> to the delight of neither. You had passed
> beyond my love, all need or sense of it.
> Passed or remained. When I look back
> into our real past, there is your puzzlement,
> my willed obscurity; a kindness I did not
> know how to accept; a coolness I could not.
> Now you are expecting your first child
> and, but for blind luck, I would not have known.
> That you are real at present, that is all;
> you have walked back miraculously through the wall.
>
> * * *
>
> You'd never guess I'd been writing about Coleridge for the past week...
>
> Dominic
>
>
Douglas Barbour
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beautiful, charcoal, beautiful, like words
that never get old, the sons of thunder beating
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