Monday, July 19, 2021

Enlarging the Dialogic Space of Love

I dream my daughters are I are listening to a band named "Gutfad," i.e., Give Us Teens, Forget About Dads, whose best song is called "Philosophy," the chorus to which goes "and we want to go down in the sun/ we want to go down in the sky/???/Give us philosophy or we'll die" and I wake up so happy my chest hurts, with no idea how Jesus fits into anything anymore.

Ask: what power do you hold and how?

It's internet all the way down, isn't it.

I am saying, go where you are happiest, but don't forget that you can't be happy without others being happy. Dogs are here to teach us what lesson? 

Wading in shallows, laughing at the minnows nibbling my toes.

Remember hating washing cars? Cigarettes before the movie, shotgunning cheap beer. How tall the saplings grew that summer, at last resembling the trees I would cut down four decades later. So we are in community and not hooking up, not dating, but rather enlarging the dialogic space of love in the Maturanan sense, cool!

We have to insist on something or else. The feral cat we call "Kitty" - a neutered male who adopted us because we leave a bowl of water out and the farm he was born at made him hunt water too - sometimes leaves dead headless birds by the back door. "Murderer's Row" is a sign of what now.

This is first person. Barn doors with landscapes clumsily painted on them. 

Swallows, grackles, turkey vultures. A nontrivial influence on the sadder aspects of my life is symbolized by how Star Wars turned into such a narrative and commercial clusterfuck after the late seventies.

This is what an unreliable narrator sounds like.

"This is a poem because I say it is" and other mistakes for which we are at last being forgiven.

No comments:

Post a Comment