Hi Janet, I received the first version the second and finally this mail.
It is quite a strange dream, and with Douglas in noticing where you leave
off your mother...
On Feb 6, 2008 6:23 PM, Patrick McManus <[log in to unmask]>
wrote:
> Janet Good to see a snap it's 17-20 here and it's the first one to arrive
> and mine I sent 8 am this morning has not arrived is there some email
> problem or is it just my computer??
> I see a mother thing poem here
>
> -----Original Message-----
> From: Poetryetc: poetry and poetics [mailto:[log in to unmask]] On
> Behalf Of Janet Jackson
> Sent: 06 February 2008 05:41
> To: [log in to unmask]
> Subject: dream snap JJ
>
> The space
>
>
> It's late night in Dream city again,
> with its dark derelict house-rows,
> dubious kitchens, tables for two,
> corner bars. Where are the friends I seek?
>
> Not in that bar -- that's all folk music.
> I drop off my mother there. You'll like this, I say.
> I drop her off and walk alone
> past people who no longer scare me
> now that I've dropped her off.
>
> It's almost midnight and I'm thinking,
> at midnight my dream-friends will gather
> in a bar next to that one (the folk-music one)
> but it doesn't open till midnight
> and I can't wait, not even a few minutes,
> because there's some place I have to get to inside myself,
>
> so I walk a couple of blocks of my dream-streets
> to another bar. Setanta Sports, Guinness,
> small, low, grotty, hot,
> and my friends are there. They say hello.
> They sit and stand around the room.
> They are leaving a space for someone
> who should be there, but has been lost.
>
> I get a beer, sit by the wall. I'm next to the space.
> I listen to their talk.
> A senior man storytells, standing up,
> projecting his voice over the heads of the gathering.
> I hear him but his words don't touch me.
> I sit with my beer, quietly breathing, next to the space.
>
> In walks an old colleague of mine, someone from reality.
> He used to have curly red hair and a big horsey mouth.
> Now his hair is wispy grey and his face has shrivelled.
> But I can say his name. He stands in front of me
> and I taunt him to guess who I am.
> But he doesn't know me --
> not without my mother.
>
> --
> Janet Jackson
> [log in to unmask]
> www.proximity.webhop.net
> www.myspace.com/poetjj
> Perth Poets: groups.yahoo.com/group/thelinemine
>
>
> --
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> 05/02/2008
> 20:57
>
--
Anny Ballardini
http://annyballardini.blogspot.com/
http://www.fieralingue.it/modules.php?name=poetshome
http://www.moriapoetry.com/ebooks.html
I Tell You: One must still have chaos in one to give birth to a dancing
star!
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