Repeat. Repeat.

What is it about recurring themes, recurring dreams? The unconscious shift from obsession to preoccupation persists in this liminal space, temporally cataloging my thoughts. This happened then, and that happened there; returning. Electricity and blackberries, road music and initial theories, to name a few.

Conversations repeating themselves until they are reduce to one word and one breath. Choose one: Blackberry. Russia. Poets.

J. is moving on Wednesday but today we met up for coffee. I don't remember everything we talked about, but I know it involved something existential, New York, Keats, Blake, Jorie Graham, Robert Hass, K., and sex. Not necessarily in that order.

the other notion that,

because there is in this world no one thing

to which the bramble of blackberry corresponds,

a word is elegy to what it signifies.

--Robert Hass, from "Meditation at Lagunitas"