I’ve been considering that hollow place where I forget a word or a string of words. It’s a place where the meaning it still intact. I can feel it, but can’t land the word that belongs there. It’s something like standing midway up the stairs and wondering what I was going up there for anyway.
Usually, finding myself in that sort of void puts me into a kind of panic. Maybe panic is too strong a word, but it’s an uncomfortable, powerless postion. I don’t usually like it - not knowing what belongs in a particular empty space.
I’m saying all this here because I’m feeling different when that sort of forgetting happens to me within this poem. I find myself resting in the empty space, looking around and making myself at home there. I could very nearly even relax in it.
It’s a little odd, but I kind of like it. It almost makes me feel wise - or something.
