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Sunday, January 22, 2006

bound

I want to get off the wheel of life but someone's
coming for tea and I need to clean the house.
The ashuras are these horrible unrented jealousy
makers and keep playing tabla in the kitchen.
To quiet down they demand causation. They say
tidy away obvious totems: those in front of the tele
or any hung on personal photographs. Here's a
black and white one of me taken at the seaside,
smiling and it harbours a mini Ganesh across the
right hand corner of the frame which itself is
colour coordinated to fit the sitting room decor.
This is from a different religion so it follows I must
circumvent cross-contamination. Also I should
degore all previous flower arrangements, flush
demons and never tell. Whereas there's more
to swallow with fresh doom in pristine cups
and endless loss on the carpet. But hush,
that's the doorbell and my friend Margaret.

Comments:
cup of fresh doom... very nice. like yr words, yr site.
 
vibrant, natural, fresh passage, superbly done. brava.
 
I love the way you enter and exit this poem with conscious thought, and meander through the middle, playing with time and memory.
 
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