Fugue #80

She sits on her bed, her homework - books, notebooks piled to her left, her bedside table to her right. She reaches into it, into the drawer and pulls out a sheet of blue stationery and a matching envelope. She drags a yearbook out from under her bed to write on, clicks her pen once, stares across her room at the stereo’s lights. She writes:

Hey!!!

It’s almost midnight, and here I am again - without you, but with you, too. Here on his page.

I can’t believe you asked me about English. You never do that. My answer was pretty laim, but I thought about it after you left, and here’s what I really think.

The essay is called "The figure a poem makes." And he says twice that the figure is the same for love. So...poem: poet::love:lover. Poets create poems like lovers create love. And everything flows from there.

He talks a lot at first about sound and then wildness. I think (could be wrong here), sound means meter or rhythm or whatever, and wildness means subject. They work together. I really like what he says about sound. I’m extrapolating here: The sound of a poem is like the sound of a voice - unique, recognizable, comforting (if it’s someone you love). And the figure a poem makes is the same for love. A momentary stay against confusion, which finds its own name as it goes.

I have so much to tell you, Gene. I don’t know if you know that, or if you know how I feel. I think you do, and then I don’t. It’s all good, and I’ll tell you sometime soon.

Good night, sweet dreams - XOXO,

Em