Whoring Magpies
Today, being the last Sunday of the month and a week before going to acupuncture school, I am cleaning my room. It relieves negative chi. This is a challenge because I am a magpie. I like hoarding things. And whoring things. But not actually. (About the hoarding.)
In any case, I hope my plane crashes on the way to Chicago because then I would never again have to read the terrible poems I found in my journals. On a positive note, I did find an entry of a dream I was looking for. It was about a magic box, teleportation, skeleton keys, and a whole lot of dildos (dildoes?). I also found a delightful poem written called To the Roaring Wind by Wallace Stevens.
Hence:
Poem #2
To the Roaring Wind
By: Wallace Stevens
What syllable are you seeking,
Vocalissimus
In the distances of sleep?
Speak it.
I feel better about throwing it away now that I have it written down on the Internet where I can find it.
No comments:
Post a Comment