Friday, June 15, 2012

His Artificial Heart Gives Him Insomnia

K brought along her friend A to Thursday Night Pints, D still buying. A owes us the next two nights of drinks when she again appears as she immediately started talking about Obama and the election. No one told me about that rule, she protested. It's understood, said L, it's tradition, I said, you know now, said D, I should have warned you, said K. A is working through her Obama: Can't or Won't? despair, her Can't resisting a Won't she knows will win. L said, when Obama could he didn't, now that he still doesn't want to but has to pretend he does he can't even pretend. I said, and even if he wanted to, not just wanted to appear to want to for rube food, he couldn't now after such determined work to ensure that he couldn't. D said, not that Obama wants to. And what Obama wanted to, I added, he did, ruthlessly, assholishly. Resigned silence. This is why we have the rule, K said to A: it needs to be talked about, but whoever starts it has to pay.


Caroline Knox

His heart keeps him awake while he's asleep.
He listens to his heart while he falls asleep in bed.
His artificial heart gives him insomnia.
As long as I can hear the sound, I know I'm here.

His heart keeps him alive while he's asleep.
My heart helps me to sleep while I'm alive.
Oh, patient, this Valentine is for you.

I had no choice, I knew that I was dying.
We are trying to survive. We are standing on the shoulders
of the makers of the heart while we lie on our back in bed.
They walk with their hearts on their sleeves and their noses to the grindstone.
He listens to his heart while he falls asleep at night.

Oh, Valentine, this contraption is for you,
device of the sacred, the sacred heart.
It feels heavy to me--it makes a constant whir
which keeps me awake when I'm trying to get to sleep.
It has no heartbeat, only this constant whir.


  1. I just need a smoking jacket & a sense of smugness, sez R.G.

    I think he already has one of these things!

  2. Hi! and much thanks for the link-love.

    The can't/won't dilemma, I'm afraid, must inexorably fall to the higher, holier principle of not succumbing to the either/or. This is the BDR Bible we're talking about here, and the hierarchy is unassailable. You'll come around... Know, mofo, thyself!

    This is how you get around the THUDDING silence (turd in punchbowl, anyone?) you dropped on your Thurs nite buds—not that, I'm so sure, anyone was actually drinking Buds.

  3. You're welcome and Heh! but the silence was sighed yup. Strangest days of my life.

    Brooklyn Lager me, stuff with long names and bushels of silent letters that smells like nyquil for the rest.

  4. That poem, dear god! I dreamt last night of someone I used to love--love with all my heart--and he was lying there in the usual position, breathing tubes up his nose, on life support.

    BDR, there's so many of today's links I want, no NEED, to read.

    Thank you!