Apologies for late posting today. I woke late after a long sleep to make up for a couple evenings of binge knitting. Then lots of householder requirements impinged after I wrote my draft poem. But I needed coffee first, because I was sort of zomby-fied. I was wandering around the house like the waking dead for about a half hour just getting my brain in gear. This is very like the old me before I started this poetry writing on a daily basis. Though I think it has more to do with late night knitting with an ear to Netflix. At any rate, the Poetry Daily is still in business.
Although tonight I will probably be asking Marie Kendo to teach me how to fold things. Because we are deep in household reorganisation. While I am writing, editting and beginning to put together a longlist of poems for my first collection, my husband has been Flat Pack Man, sometimes vexed and perplexed as he constructs new wardrobes, chests of drawers and book shelves. (And even though we have expanded book shelf space we needed to drop off two large carrier bags of books to Oxfam yesterday. And more are due for give away…)
Also, the Septic Tank Man could not cometh today. So we will have to be up early for him tomorrow. Also, I have a weaving class…
It's All White Noise
The single note of the TV test card back in the when
of days when television closed down for the night
and nothing was 24/7.
Android radio had static and buzz.
The first kind of wireless had tubes
that whirred as you tried to tune in
to the far, far away
"This is Berlin. This is Berlin."
It's changed to nonstop chatter
from the wave upon wave of streaming pictures.
The current of click, click, click
of binary digit. Although
perhaps it is more correct to
swipe, swipe, swipe
moving the screen across
the talking heads becoming GIFs.
The talk, talk, talk
that is sending us all into
a very deep, deep sleep.
We are all now Beauties
locked up in our keeps.