Thursday, September 23, 2010
I Miss My “ ”
My “ ” is gon. Wipd from its shiny black ky.
Vaporizd into thin air;
rubbd out lik a Mafioso rat by robust and ruthlss punching.
Bginning with th uppr right arm,
followd by its middl and lowr branchs, pummld colorlss,
lik th middl C that I printd on th piano with indlibl markr whn I was just thr.
Nothing bing prmannt.
" "—A mathmatical constant, the slop of a tangnt lin (of a crtain function), th valu of a drivitiv;
an irrational numbr of utmost importanc.
(Not that I shall vr attmpt to us it as such.)
It’s tru—I undrstand now—how th “ ” is th most commonly usd vowl. Utilizd, consumd, xhaustd. I’v witnssd its slow annihilation
at th hand of th oily skinnd undrsid of my lft middl fingr;
a lon swirling print complling vidnc.
But what to com is mor troubling: th gradual dtrioration of T, who’s uppr right cap is missing;
and th I! Oh my! A mr smudg at th cntr of th raisd bvld squar.
What to do whn my grayd lttrs hav all vanishd?! Th aging mind drawing blanks.
How will I find my way? Will th sound of th rat-a-tat tap carry m through—rkindling th addictiv, habitual lik movmnts of my tn rhumatic digits?
Lik a musician’s traind ar, a singrs cultivatd vocal chords?
Whn all my comrads hav bn limnd bald, will I still hav a story to tll? A song to sing?
But just whn I wondr how I can b m without th lttr “ ”, I am succord by th stubborn blot of my lingring “I”,
my dtrmind vowl. A syllabl, a pronoun, an uttranc unto itslf.
I wondr if this would qualify as Ars Potica? Profssor B?