Thursday, July 26, 2012

When the Sun Was Done Muttering, in an Optimistic Way, It Was Time to Leave that There

So the plan is to stop posting DRGDKCLB (click mosaic, yo) stuff here two days ago, but in lieu of embargoed bleggalgazing - you'd rather have nothing than this, this than bleggalgazing, I seem incapable of giving you nothing - you get this, plus now through July 30 a daily Ashbery poem and a daily Kate Bush song in anticipation of two of the holiest days in Egoslavia. I had two fascinating email threads working yesterday on Blegsylvania and... oh, right. Had a conversation with my obamapostle friend, the one who doesn't even want me to use a pseudonymous initial to identify him/her, s/he said.... oh, right.


John Ashbery

You meant more than life to me. I lived through
you not knowing, not knowing I was living.
I learned that you called for me. I came to where
you were living, up a stair. There was no one there.
No one to appreciate me. The legality of it
upset a chair. Many times to celebrate
we were called together and where
we had been there was nothing there,
nothing that is anywhere. We passed obliquely,
leaving no stare. When the sun was done muttering,
in an optimistic way, it was time to leave that there.

Blithely passing in and out of where, blushing shyly
at the tag on the overcoat near the window where
the outside crept away, I put aside the there and now.
Now it was time to stumble anew,
blacking out when time came in the window.
There was not much of it left.
I laughed and put my hands shyly
across your eyes. Can you see now?
Yes I can see I am only in the where
where the blossoming stream takes off, under your window.
Go presently you said. Go from my window.
I am in love with your window I cannot undermine
it, I said.

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