Nothing forgets us more quickly than a barstool.
Ramon Gomez de la Serna
the sheer terror of being forced into incarnation in accordance with one’s will one’s agreement with the single intelligence. We watch at night after so much crying crying crying, cats as bed sentries naps as necessity (she who “could not nap” before finds it easy when exhausted). Crying crying crying how does a c-section inhibit the woman’s body when will the milk come in when will the poems resume is she alive? I stroke a long thin baby finger to get a confirmation twinge.
The sheer terror of “this again” meat and all its needs spirit forced back into the meat cage mind forced back into a baby brain to chain the long slog back to embodiment of the interdependent origination she knows all too well now, but cries cries cries for an ounce of formula. Will it be pizza in 15 years? Corned beef hash? Narcotics, slot machines (not my daughter) stimulation who knows the social networks of the future maybe programmed surgically into nerves. Cappucino? New hybrid foods (fusion they say) kim chi pierogies or something more simple?
The sheer terror of the replunge into meat again (that’s a lot of hair for a white girl) and re-learning diaper technology after 20 years, car-seat and stroller tech (it’s all in the gear) 60 days away from freedom she appears a St. Patty’s Day baby, parades every year on her day and Guinness like I had an hour after she arrived. Terror’s antidote or hearty companion. She arrives.
this scatter’s namesake.
The Runes say
10:14A – 3.22.12