Black Glass Soliloquy
By Ben Mirov
There is nothing in my head today.
I think about you everyday.
My head full of blckkk glsss
My head full of bllllk sound.
I think about you every day.
I travel in my love for you.
An outline in the blckkk glsss.
Living in the blllckk glasss.
Time travels in my sound for you.
There is nothing in my head today.
Echo echo bl@@@k gl@{{.
To whom do I deliver sound.
To whom does the shudder render.
I think about you everyday.
I hang you in the B[][][][][] G[][][][][]
I hang you in my head today.
A ravel in the blccckkkkk soundd.
I think about you everyday.
My love for you is bla888888ck s####nd.
Echo echo bl&kk s(((((())))))d.
I travel in my love for you.
I ravel in my love for you.
A bl>>>>K $(0)nd in my love for you.
I think about you every day.
There is nothing in my head today.
I hang you in my bLL^^CC// S______---
][ ravel in the B&&&&& S))))))))d
I go out in the b::::::::::K G::::::::::ss
to see you in the <*++*> gIIIIIIIs.
I hang you in my head today.
I ravel through the <<>> {oun}
Are you in my $[%&]d today?
An echo in my head today.
I think about you everyday.
An echo in the black sound.
An outline in the black glass.
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We had some plans for Sunday, but the cold made us kind of sluggish all morning and then we decided we should move our legs a bit in the afternoon. Early on, Adam worked at Hebrew school and I restrung the beads on a necklace; after breakfast, which was close to lunchtime, we were thinking about going to see The Book Thief but we kind of weren't in the mood for a long depressing movie no matter how good it's supposed to be. So we watched some of the Ravens-Jets game, which surprisingly ended well for Baltimore, then we went to Locust Grove to take a walk without Adam, who had homework and still isn't feeling great.
Adam had not watched The Day of the Doctor when it aired -- he was at an all-day cross country meet -- so we watched the internet shorts (The Five(ish) Doctors Reboot is a joy forever) and the main episode. Parts of it hold up really well on a rewatch, particularly everything Tennant does both with Smith and with Hurt, and parts of it grate just as much as if not more than the first time (Neville Chamberlain jokes? Really? And don't get me started on Moffat's gender games). There was no Once Upon a Time but we watched Masters of Sex, which remains excellent...and has better sexual politics than futuristic shows despite when it's set.
Sorry, I wasn't much online yesterday so I never brought the comments live! The poem is typed nearly as it appears here; I had to reproduce the html.
ReplyDeleteI do not do well with people with shotguns. *g*