Where You’ll Find Me

So, this time I have an actual excuse for not posting in a few days. Saturday evening at yoga class, probably as a combination of heat/dehydration/eating beforehand/who knows, I had a dizzy spell like nobody’s business. And instead of excusing myself like I ought to have, I (pretty stupidly) finished the second half, which meant that by the end I was as vertiginous as a centrifuge. (Lying on the mat at the end of class was like being in a Gravitron.) I managed to stagger out of the room after class had ended, somehow get home, and proceeded to lie on my bed and not move for hours. (The Fellow arrived in the middle of all this, which I felt pretty awful about.)

Sunday I felt well enough to get up and walk around at least, though I spent the day light-headed. And now it’s passed (though I felt light-headed this morning, too; I’m going to chalk that up to very little sleep and coffee, though), but the last thing my brain felt like doing was the poetic rounds, unfortunately. I’m going to assume that it was something to do with a rush of blood to the head fucking up the inner ear balance business, and if it happens again, I will get me to a doctor posthaste.

Not to be morbid with the follow-up, but We Write Poems asked for an epitaph this week. I wrote one not too long ago, but why not another?

Where You’ll Find Me:

In stained glass under the vandal’s feet;
in orbital clouds in the dumbstruck west.

The slow glyph of wind on a Monday street;
the paint on the waking peacock’s breast.

Waiting on the roof for summer sleet;
watching the moon rise, unbidden, unblessed.

14 thoughts on “Where You’ll Find Me

  1. margo roby says:

    You have witnesses. We are going to hold you to the getting to a doctor posthaste. Now let the Fellow take care of you, although he’s probably back at work. If so, take care of yourself, foolish youth [said with great fondness and affection].

  2. Rugged, Joseph! I echo Margo…

    On another note I really like your epitaph especially this:

    ” paint on the waking peacock’s breast.”

    Big into bird details lately so this popped for me. Very nice!

  3. Something tells me you’re unlikely to take advice :-), but I’m going to try anyway: I would consult a doctor now – soon after it happened – without waiting for it to happen again. Be good to yourself.

    Nice poem.

  4. barbara_ says:

    Stay hydrated (NOT with diuretics like coffee and alcohol). Sleep. If you can’t/won’t, then see the doc. Consumptives are only romantic in opera.

  5. Irene says:

    Gosh, this is *so* poetic for an epitaph…sigh worthy! And you remind me, I so miss yoga, slacking, but jazz dance today was terrific.

  6. I echo the others, Joseph. You should see a doctor posthaste. I love the poem.


  7. JulesPaige says:

    You didn’t know I have a mock stain glass peacock hanging in my front window… I like all the places you’ll be found. Like Caesars’ last utterance still roaming the atmosphere of Earth.

    I waxed a bit poetic for this one:

  8. nan says:

    This poem-epitaph is staggeringly beautiful. (Okay, so as a fellow occasional vertigo sufferer, I got hooked on the word stagger in your notes above. I agree with the others… have a doctor check you out. As unpleasant as those spells can be, they are usually benign. Drink a lot of water, lower your sodium intake, and do get checked!) Back to the poem: I love the idea of all the places you will be found after you are gone. I liked all of it, but especially “slow glyph of wind on a Monday street…”

  9. Wayne says:

    Dr wayne has no advice to others….BUT…keep up the yoga…listen to your body…..and keep writing….enjoyed your words indeed…and thanks for sharing all…Namaste

  10. vivinfrance says:

    A perfect epitaph for a poet. But if it’s not to be needed sooner, rather than later, take all the good advice your commenters have given you.

  11. Christopher says:

    Joseph, what they all said, and I will add, your instinct is probably right. There is likely nothing to find. That does not mean there is nothing there. I am still confused that way even though my changes occurred several years back now. My heart trouble was so mild that I could have ignored it for a while, though it happened twice and I was diagnosed with two kinds of trouble. My symptoms today are solid but don’t seem heart related, not to me in my life. They are heart related though and if I had not responded, then the mild events would probably have become more severe by now untreated. I am sure I would have been driven in to the docs eventually. There is often something to be gratefully said for catching whatever it is early.

  12. I’m not as familiar with you personally as some others seem to be, but do take care of yourself. I tend to agree, it was probably exactly what you think it was.

    Your epitaph is really beautiful…in sound and image. Love it.

  13. My Fellow is very good about seeing after me, so I hope he will join us in urging you on to the doctor. Inner ear can sometimes actually be a sinus infection, and that can be dangerous stuff, honey. Sorry about your debacle; I’ve had too many to count, for various psych-med reasons…

    Your epitaph is perfect, especially the “stained glass under the vandal’s shoes.” In the midst of intrigue, that’s you. But let’s not fulfill the prompt too literally too fast. Mama says GET THEE TO A NOT-SO-FUNNERY (doctor’s office) right now!

    See, this is why my band calls me AmyPants. Love, Amy

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