Who taught you to talk so nasty? comes out all
bubbles. I’m struggling to bring myself to the
surface. If it were a dream. But it’s just a
thought I get while reading a poem by Philip
Jenks. I’m struggling to remember (word from
word) what the lips in my brain are parsing.
Yeah, I’m sure this is no good (bubbles) (lips
parsing – long pause – lips parsing) but it’s
okay I’m listening to the new wind chimes.
[Are there new wind chimes?] How pleasant.
Or how pleasant on a morning such as this.
How pleasant this morning, the new wind
chimes! Or are they crystal wine glasses
filled with varying amounts of water. We’ve
only three of them left (I’ve broken three of
them – separate events – since October.)
Who’s playing a three-noted chime
with wine glasses filled with
varying amounts of water?
