- She went to the doctor for a tingly arm, describing her symptoms she looks up and points desperately at the ceiling : “it feels like energy.” “Oh you mean electricity,” he thinks she has Alzheimer’s.
- You first forget pronouns, then verbs, and then…
- And she wants to be a poet at 60, always had a poet’s vein and loved flowers.
- One day she forgets the name of the thing which holds money, she only feels it’s weight.
- Isn’t poetry about just that, the weight?
- It’s about the gap, between the name and the thing named.
- “Into the furrows/ of the heavenscoin in the doorcrack/ you press the word.”
- Maybe you see the thing when you forget it’s name?
- It’s a play of appearances, what you see is never real enough.
- She takes out her notebook and kneels beside a bed of roses and writes down : “ red roses/ the color of blood ”
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