a self is a center of narrative gravity
-Richard Rorty

the well I dwell in- –
one center among many,
a force around which I collect
the world, these fragments,
sparkling for a magpie,
into who I call myself.

a friend calls on the phone,
I hear echoes of his day
strangling his speech.
I wonder about my traces:
(remnants or controls?)
the slough of gossip,
or long unfolding stories – –
linguistic DNA to clot my heart?

Leave a Comment

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.