I am speaking audition from future to past
writing in the future 2006 to the past blogging post of December...
where did December go, was I in a black-out?
Did I wake with a festival around me of Mozart and anarchists
running wild, did I wake an old man with horses
trampling overhead?
Did I hear the voice of my dear Deleuze and say
its time to wake
from the amnesia of being with the dead so long?
Did I lose the touch of aural for spoken?
Was the metaphor a high-chair where I fell
down breaking my head?
Did I write sentences of love, of hate,
sorrow and rebate?
Do the radio go off while I shone on
a nerve pounding out of my head
burning the weight
brimming over with radiance?
were words lost in the murky black out?
was the black out a black out?
was my dizziness a loss of consciousness?
I write from deep in the late January of the year of Our Lord
and our Lady 2006. leagues before summer, decades advance to
spring
the leafy overhead beauties of flower
.
Did the other blogs
vanish in the tryst?
