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Thursday, April 5, 2012

half my day passes



S E L F - P O R T R A I T

by Adam Zagajewski

Between the computer, a pencil, and a typewriter
half my day passes. One day it will be half a century.
I live in strange cities and sometimes talk
with strangers about matters strange to me.
I listen to music a lot: Bach, Mahler, Chopin, Shostakovich.
I see three elements in music: weakness, power, and pain.
The fourth has no name.
I read poets, living and dead, who teach me
tenacity, faith, and pride. I try to understand
the great philosophers - but usually catch just
scraps of their precious thoughts.



{the rest of the poem here}


After reading the ending, the mint and cello, I had a craving for cello music.....






So today I will spend my day watching the snow falling, writing the lines of others in my notebook, forging plans, drinking coffee.  The day will pass too quickly. I have poems to revise.  Words to change - on a day like today they will float above the page and ask to be swapped out for something stranger.  There's a book of poems that requires dog-earing.  There's a dog that will require a walk. A daughter to retrieve from school, and take to a hair appointment.

But for now the snow requires my attention, this last interval of silence, before the noise of spring green.


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