To keep the librarian Millie happy, a library employee has agreed to do some writing. His chosen topic is transmission line theory. Part 1 is here.
Our life’s within our skin,
squeeze me to my broken bones,
I’m still outside of you,
a part of your exterior,
your shared illusion.
Beyond the gates and through the door,
over my glasses and behind my eyes,
a cozy inner planet spins.
Although we do our best,
we’re all imperfect on the inside:
convoluted angels, antipodean demons
and unnamed peccadilloes,
curled up on the bed or hiding
underneath the lounge.
But what if our internal landscape
is less than congruent with the world?
A purely hypothetical someone
might believe that they’re adorable,
a tail-wagging puppy,
yet find their only friend’s a talking clock.
At this point Millie nodded.
It’s just turned midnight, but do go on.
If the mismatch with reality’s severe,
if our inner world is fanciful and fragile,
transmissions will be reflected
at the interface.
To strangers in the realm beyond,
we become a mirror, all intimation
and shallow imitation,
while our caged canary thoughts
are trapped inside our skull.
You’re not my friend, are you?
Are the canaries asking?
to continue
about
Peccaries, armadillos and the hybrid peccadillo species are often confused, so the wood ducks tell me.
artwork
borrow me (part above) An original B&W drawing by Tamaya Garner transformed with VEE, the Visual Evolution Engine.
A waning moon feeling reflecting my thoughts of reality (well, at least right now, pre-coffee). Looking forward to the next one…
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Thanks, Clarissa. I’d say that’s there, in the world and in the piece. It seeps in. Pre-coffee, I don’t do much, just wander round in a dream, and eventually make coffee.
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“Our life’s within our skin, squeeze me to my broken bones”
ANOTHER IS,
“over my glasses and behind my eyes, a cozy inner planet spins”
I could go on and on. You have this unique ability to connect words that hold a multitude of thoughts and images Steve. I may have said this before, in our fast-paced world where often we find ourselves with small bits of personal time while waiting for a go train or 15 minutes on a break. You create a sci-fi novel within one to three poems. It baffles and delights me, how you do this. You are giving us back time to read when we felt we may have lost it.
We should never allow ourselves to get so busy that we don’t also feed our mind and soul.
Love collaborating with you.
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Thanks Tamaya. Your thoughts are very much appreciated; they help to motivate me, to keep me going, and, although I don’t like the particular word, they incentivate me. Everyone is busy and I love the idea of a very short read, a brief escape from the immediate world. It’s a pleasure to collaborate with you, thank you again.
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Right back at you 🙂
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Very poignant… That MIllie is so pragmatic. I like this description: convoluted angels, antipodean demons and unnamed peccadilloes. I can certainly relate. Pretty cool art work. And I love the title! AND I learned a new word: antipodean. Your work stretches me! In a good way. 🙂
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Thank you and thank you, BG. With the relating, me too, those little peccadilloes scurrying around everywhere.
Hoping to organise more artwork with Tamaya in the future.
A lot of Australians are familiar with Antipodeans, because it’s us. 🙂 Not so common now, but people used to call Australia and New Zealand the Antipodes.
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The canaries ALWAYS want to know, but do go on…
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It’s 5:01 and very true Frank, and I certainly do, that’s what people tell me. 🙂
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Yep, a good one. The inner vs. the outer worlds are sometimes out of tune.
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Thank you, glad you liked. Yes, desafinado.
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If our insides get all mixed up with the outside(s), we’ll have no idea who/what we are vs. who/what we aren’t. Ah yes, the notion of self vs. other is just an illusion.
This part is profound and witty all at once:
“A purely hypothetical someone
might believe that they’re adorable,
a tail-wagging puppy,
yet find their only friend’s a talking clock.”
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Thanks, Margarisa. I agree, we do need a boundary. I was going to extend this piece, but to save time I’m now trying to shorten my posts. I think that if there is a severe disconnect with reality, there is the mirror from the outside, but on the inside, the reflections cause fractures, and the self tends to disintegrate.
Of course, this theory is based on impedance matching in transmission lines so there is absolutely no reason for it to be true. 😸
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I especially like the drawing. I will read the poem again.
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Glad you like it, Margaret.
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The thing I love about your poetry is the unique invention of it all. Nobody else writes like this. You always have something fresh and unexpected to say. Thank you for this Steve.
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My pleasure, Margaret, as always. I’m flattered. I know it’s not for everyone, but however it is, it’s me, and that’s how it comes out.
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A marvelous escape from reality Steve/
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Thanks Margaret. I’m not wonderfully fond of reality, sometimes I guess. (I’m playing catch-up with the comments as usual.)
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It is very generous of you to read so many of my poems. I am flattered while realising that time is precious.
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Yes, you’re right, Margaret, we all have to have priorities, and I enjoy reading your work.
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So excellent and good. I love this Steve.
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Thank you, Rhapsody, I appreciate it; I know how busy you are.
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That might be so, but there is always time for a friend. 😉
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Like others, laughed out loud at ‘…their only friend’s a talking clock’; and like others, so liking Millie – the patient listener past midnight.
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Thank you, Peter. Yes, I like her too, and some basis in reality. Nothing like a friend who has perfected the art of pretending to listen. For free (paid is no problem).
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So many beautiful parts to this..it reflects the angst in all of us.
“I’m still outside of you, a part of your exterior, your shared illusion.” I will read it many many times, Steve.
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Thank you, Sobhana. I think that from the media, we get all these idealized images of how people are and how they relate. It’s mostly messy. Also, if you read it too closely you will realize is very shallow. 🐒
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The transmission line theory does not disappoint, Steve. I enjoyed reading this thoroughly. Librarians, and those students of yours, should really have a better appreciation of, and contemplate on, the sag and tension of transmission lines as the ultimate work/life philosophy. But perhaps, Millie already knows this? 😉 😊
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Thank you, Said. Yes, engineering students can be very shortsighted when it comes to travelling waves. I’m not sure what Millie knows; quite a bit more than me probably. 😸
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The last time I had to do overtime at midnight, I did not have anybody to tell me such fascinating fairytale. What perks Millie has at her job!
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I’m not quite sure Millie sees it that way, but who knows? 🙂 The late-night stints I’ve done have always been about some deadline or other: e,g, coding in hotel rooms or laboratory work, not a lot of fun.
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Ah, codes. And, we tend to want what we don’t have, right? 🙂
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I suppose that, in any given instant, it must be true. For example, if my mouth is full of chocolate, I don’t want chocolate, because I have it. Admittedly, a short time later I may want more chocolate. Mmm, I wonder whether I have any chocolate in the fridge.
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So, were there choccies in the fridge? 😁
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Haha, it was loaded with chocolates of every description and variety. Not.
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Aw, shucks! Better get some at Woolies. ☺️
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I love your latest poem especially of us being not more than other people’s fantasies of ourselves, but when will Millie demonstrate her reality.I can’t wait! The picture is delightful. Incidentally, I can spell reality, but I the computer is telling me I can’t.! Thank you for this Steve. I really enjoy your work.
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Thanks, Margaret. I’m also wondering about Millie.
I think that in our relationships with other people, we have to have models, ideas of who they are, and we base those, in a sense, on ourselves. Where those ideas are between fantasy and reality is sometimes hard to know.
I find that with spell checks as well, I mean “parameloscopic” seems perfectly fine to me. Hahaha.
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I wont be searching the dictionary for that word Steve even though it looks pretty authentic although now I come to think of it perhaps it is!
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Not searching is a wise decision, Margaret. 🙂
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Just catching up on the series, Steve, read this one a number of times and will do again,beautifully written and funny and fragile at the same time.
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Thanks, Jim. This series is a bit out of control; it’s a little like a runaway train itself. 🙂
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