National Poetry Month ends today. My daily Borges post turned out to be really interesting and even fun. I never tried to find a line that connected to the pandemic but time and again the line that jumped out fit in some way. I took a line from a poem about a card game. One was from a poem about looking in the mirror. One was from a poem about a general, which I could hardly read (not interested in military stuff) but had a line about his people following him on the day we were hearing about all the protests to open different states. Uncanny. If a true Borges scholar read these fragments they might hate where I began and ended the fragment. There were times when I had a hard time keeping it short.
I got some likes and shares and comments. Thank you. As it turned out I stayed connected to the project because it was just so easy to find the fragment.
I was reading The River of Consciousness by Oliver Sacks. The title came form Borges. A sweet little synchronicity
My mood has been all over the place. Which, actually, isn't exactly new. It has been even more erratic than usual. Having this poem project has been something of a stabilizer. I keep trying to think about something profound to say about how poetry responds to all moments and the meaning become personal. But. Ya know. Profound things start to sound kinda dumb.
Borges is back on the shelf, close enough to reach in an emergency.
This is the third year of me doing this.
And what a weird year.
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