Enga mellom fjella

Senses (poem)

Senses

There are poems that must be heard
to discern the nuances of meaning.
There are poems that need be seen,
deceived by the eyeball-urge for symbols.

There are poems that require both,
to know my intentions.

For what can eyes and ears know on their own?
To feel the surge beyond two senses:
taste this ink spilled on soiled paper,
touch its roughness with your tongue,
know the smell of my two lungs,
our heat within two souls.

Kåre Enga 2008 [164.514] 2008-02-15

IMAGES and MUSINGS:

There are unidentifiable sounds coming from who-knows-where. I sit hyper-sensitive, aware. My mind says there is no need to fear, but my nerves are never convinced. My body slowly heals the bruises; it is a storehouse of wounds.

Half-an-hour till noon & clouds have closed in again bringing their gloom. A cold draft curls around my ankles. I see the breeze moving bare branches and streaks of white.

Sometimes I think living in this much quiet isn't healthy for me. I hear every sound: wind rattling windows, a stomach growl, horn of the passing train, traffic, tick of the clock, my finger scratching my scalp, my ears popping.

Too much quiet, perhaps. When I'm out-and-about noises bother me, especially sharp voices and anything percussive. Behind me is worse than in front. I can barely tolerate the place where I hang out some days. Other days ... no prob.

My nerves cannot tolerate much (why so long to heal is beyond me). At times, I literally cover my ears and cringe.

[edited from my Journal, page 1540, 18 February 2008]

ME:

I wasn't going to blog, but then a computer became available. This way I don't have to blog tomorrow if I get busy.

Actually got up reasonably early, ate, fed the birds, read poems by Garfunkel and Jaffe. Decided to catch the bus ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ downtown ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫.

Made the mistake of visiting the Dusty Bookstore! Bought 5 used books of poetry: Beaudelaire, Okot p'Bitek, Dylan Thomas, Denise Low and Ted Kooser. I hope to see Denise next week. Maybe talk to her about her Kansas Poet project and how anthologies were done in Georgia and Montana. Other than Stafford, there are a lot of Kansas poets that remain unknown in their home state.

Oh ... and I picked up a postcard (that's why I went there) and wrote to a friend and even mailed it! (Why the exclamation point? ... Some days remembering to do something simple is as good as it gets. )

Kansas: 32º.

2448