Daily Note No 7 : Surviving on Audio

I’m staying indoors as much as I can. This morning, I’ve been to Doctor Dara Byrne.

There is nothing to do for my health except keep hydrated.

If my phlegm turns from yellow to green, I now have a prescription for an antibiotic, Amoxicillin.

During the last 48 hours, I’ve recorded & shared audio* on LIMOR about

  • Praising Maria Popova’s new book “Figuring
  • Feeling miserable
  • Getting to see a doctor in Ireland
  • House-swapping for holidays

Recording audio keeps me going and seems to release some energy from a repository within.

(* I’ll put the audio here)

PRAISING MARIA POPOVA “FIGURING”
FEELING MISERABLE – THE BENEFITS
GETTING TO SEE A DOCTOR IN IRELAND
HOUSE SWAPPING

Easter Passover & Resurrection 

https://anchor.fm/embed/a6520d

I rose from the dead 

We’d all love to rise from the dead
and snatch a second chance
from the teeth of history.

Which of you would refuse resurrection
and leave the stones in place
until the winter breaks?

My death was cold
and stank of feces
left by swallows fit to glide away.

I never knew how long my death would last
until I rose again from the jaws of a mystery made
before the stars exploded

and the universe was saved.

 

There are times

img_0613

There are times

There are times the rain
is so heavy, and the cloud so
thick I can hardly see.

There are times the dark
is so choking I can hardly
breathe.

There are times the words
are strangled in my throat.

There are times the pain
grips throughout, and I
am completely at its mercy.

And there are times when it’s
much worse than that…

I wish

nb_pinacoteca_dore_divine_comedy_inferno_01a_dante_astray_in_the_dark_wood

I wish 

I wish for nothing in particular

nor gold, nor silver

nor the slightest material star

 

Not even the love of another being

nor warmth from the sun.

I  wish for nothing beautiful.

 

What I crave lies beyond words

beyond prayers, beyond faith

beyond me: it is dead.

 

It died on a Thursday afternoon

not long before the assent

to the peak of Christmas dawned.

 

I wish for the return of the property

stolen from air I use to breathe

– I have a nickname for it.

 

But the memory is punctured

the proper name dribbled away

beyond reach, beyond breath.

 

It refuses to respond to my cries

lets the echo fester and reek of cracked eggs

in case I forget it wasn’t always so.

 

I wish it was like Lazarus

reincarnated human.

Maybe I’ll go on wishing and breathing too…

____________________________

Note:

Composed just before xmas 2015. With special thanks to Lars.