When I was just a little girl, I asked my mother, what will I be..?

One day we see that no-one is in control.

  And we shake uncontrollably,

and laugh unconvincingly

  at things that are not funny.

We take the pills.

  Take a prescription, antidote

they widen your eyes and your throat.

  And you feel your brain float.

106. In a Station of the Metro, by Ezra Pound

It would be so stupid not to include this somewhere in my blog, as it is the single most provoking thing I've ever read, as Blake wrote in his 'Proverbs of Hell': "One Thought Fills Immensity." Here it is, that one thought...

106. In a Station of the Metro

The apparition of these faces in the crowd;

Petals on a wet, black bough.

Ezra Pound (1884)

The Highest Form of Flattery

One at a time

Then both together.

The second and the minute hand

simultaneous

in the movement

one minute

    one second 

past twelve.  A

fragment of a movement

light reflected on a strand of hair

Rolling clouds 

   through rotting windows

pass over

    poppy fields.

Wistful, 

as a sweet wrapper

roly-polying down the street.

Once removed

Separated

Kept

as an old puzzle.

Still belonging!

And still, 

the pieces fit together. Both together as a 

remembered child.