Marie, this one's for you.

It's been (well) over a year since I last posted something here, mostly because I haven't really written anything interesting in a long time. However, lately I've been trying to put on paper some recurring feelings I've had lately, and as a result I ended up making kind of a poem (I blame my fondness for loosely metered blank verse on a combination of laziness and wishing that regular prose had more inapporpriate line breaks [because if there's one consistent attribute in my poems, it's inappropriate line breaks]).

And now anyone on the internet can read it!

It’s loops.

And loops within loops,

Self defining, self sustaining.

Emulating and immolating

And looping

Like an old tape;

The last song plays

-a click-

                -whirring-

And it loops.

Again and

(I won’t say ‘again’ again, but you get the idea)

Like a sine wave,

Which means

-Mathematically speaking-

There are troughs,

And as high as the heights tower

(and while they’re hard to measure, being abstract,

I assure you they’re quite tall

-and unwieldy

                -and complex

                                -and recursive

-and unsustainable)

There is ALWAYS an equivelant reaction.

After all, that is the law.

Also, -returning to the point at hand-

The nature of loops

Which I suppose is why they’re frustrating:

Because all of us hate watching cheeks turn,

And with all these turns-

Not to mention all these cheeks-

You start to feel like you’re behind and at the bottom

(not a great place where cheeks are involved)

And no matter how high you climb, the wave is still moving

And no matter how many turns you make,

There is always another hand to slap you,

And even when you walk in a straight line,

In a curved universe you’ll always end up home again (I lied).

And you walk in the door, take off your coat, sit down, eat dinner, check your mail, go to bed, wake up, go to work, grab your lunch, go to meetings, head home, walk in the door

-and the tape clicks,

                -whirring-