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Thursday, June 9, 2011
Water by Philip Larkin
Water, Sleep, Faith, Imagination
I toss and turn tonight sweating from illness, I get up for some water. To drink, of course. Yet as the faucet runs, my fingers instinctively flick the water on my face and then more. It felt like standing naked in the rain (gently falling now in Boone County) or crying in the shower. As I close this with the sharing of a favorite poem, one that makes use of water, I'm uncertain if I will walk onto the deck or allow my mattress to digest me for the magic, healing wonders of sleep.
If I were called in To construct a religion I should make use of water. Going to church Would entail a fording To dry, different clothes; My liturgy would employ Images of sousing, A furious devout drench, And I should raise in the east A glass of water Where any-angled light Would congregate endlessly.