Blinkie ‘Bill’ O’Malley: The fête

By | 1 December 2010

“When an inner situation is not made conscious,
it happens outside, as fate.” – Carl Jung

 

Let me start by saying you
are unstable.
Eight deaths
in eight days. At the home
you thought you’d send
your mum to. Only you can’t send
mum anywhere she doesn’t
want to go, unless you have a signed
enduring guardianship, that is.
Sign
here pls.
Pls call
if you have questions. Like:
is it audited,
and what happens to my capital
&c. Well, what I started out
saying is “you look nice today
in the shadow of Eyjafjallajökull,
at 63°38′N 19°36′W.” Dazzling
stratovolcano, your fire makes
us tack around the planet one
way, then another, from departure
lounge to airport bar & back
with toiletries & stuff
sacks—the same planet where
what you don’t make
conscious emerges later
as a fête (dunking machine,
chocolate wheel, lucky
dip, white elephant)
as blood spilt
in a defrosting fridge.
That’s all fate is: a fridge
with blood in it
that you spilt
(& the fridge tells
not of it) so, as I sd,
to weigh a mountain, any mountain,
go to the mountain—
go about it with a plumbline;
measure between heartbeats etc,
as though we’re not actually stuck
here on the midgard kicking ash
and ice in our birthday
puffer vests from mum
saying mean things, ie:
“Like Man U you’re a bagatelle
in economic terms, and the banks
will write you off. Me too. #justsayin”

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