Read a poem advising me to practice losing things.
I started with my watch (shoved it good and proper down the back of my bed), moved onto the lighter for the cooker (put that sucker somewhere safe), my black and white scarf (I left in a pub), an umberella (in a shop), a telephone number (was kept in my lost phone left on a bus on the way to a meeting held at the 'Seven Wounds of Jesus') and finally I let some friends drift away.
Now I must go, and this blog will lose me in its own efficient way. I will be superseded by a new thought, a picture, a creative work. My writings will shift down and off the page in a day and into the archive where they will remain buried, everything must change.
I started with my watch (shoved it good and proper down the back of my bed), moved onto the lighter for the cooker (put that sucker somewhere safe), my black and white scarf (I left in a pub), an umberella (in a shop), a telephone number (was kept in my lost phone left on a bus on the way to a meeting held at the 'Seven Wounds of Jesus') and finally I let some friends drift away.
Now I must go, and this blog will lose me in its own efficient way. I will be superseded by a new thought, a picture, a creative work. My writings will shift down and off the page in a day and into the archive where they will remain buried, everything must change.
No comments:
Post a Comment