Sunday, July 30, 2006
Every Lost Earring
More to come soon. Meanwhile, four sections of the website are up and running -- main link on the right!
Benedictions and Maledictions
Keith Richards on Chuck Berry: "The more you find out about him, the less you know. . . "
First published in New England Poetry Anthology:
Every Lost Earring
He crushed the ceramic egg I’d given him for Christmas,
said the Gypsies believe eggs hold the soul and look
what’s happened to yours. Even then, I knew he was
an asshole, and I held the Nuremberg trials for him each
year after I escaped, listing his sins in strident detail, the noose
always ready to slip from my neck to his, but it didn’t.
Then I practiced forgetting, every lost earring a Lazarus
come to tell of a former life on a different street. Make
of this what you will. Memory is a burn scar, the proud
flesh that rises above the rest, and strangers keep asking,
What did you do to yourself, exactly the right question,
but one you pay for and insurance won’t cover it all. Best
to go to a sliding scale, hope that no one can see you
this week, crack real eggs alone in the dim kitchen light,
ignore the occasional strand of blood in the yolk.
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5 comments:
Today's triple-header "Quote of the Day": #1: The word "seek" is etymologically related, not to "see" as might appear to be the case, but to "sagacious." What is needed is not simply seeing but a quality of discernment regarding what is seen, a piercing insight that looks deeper than mere surface appearances.--Natalie Baan;#2: When you achieve true wisdom, you don't adhere to any sort of belief. You allow reality to be itself, beyond your ability to grasp it. Which doesn't mean that you don't relate to it relationally, but you don't try to encompass it and grasp hold of it.--R.A.F. Thurman;#3: Naturally.--Bud Abbott.
The "real eggs" at the end of "Every Lost Earring" are, of course, symbolic. They represent the broken relationship that is not completely gone, a haunting bonding itself symbolized by the "occasional strand of blood in the yolk." A hauntingly brilliant poem.
Dear Michelle,
Lovely pictures and post, as always. The poem is a sad one, though. The web site is looking quite smashing. I enjoy your photos in the new sections very much. Bravo!
O Mighty Isis helloe there, Foxy Lady. The poem gives me the willies but the view is fine and the web site is fine and you are fine R2 C2!
Meshele, more lovlies. Still jealos (still laughing). So beautiful my dear. I understand poem all to well (should be crying now, hahaha) luv and keeeeses, N.
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