Dreams and ice cream
Ever since Jeff and I got our Tempurpedic Memory foam matress, I have been having some very very weird dreams! I dreamt that I was at work, when this old white man in a black tuxedo came into my office and tapped me on the shoulder to let me know that I had a phone call. When I actually picked up the phone and said "hello" I found that I was talking to myself. Wht kills me the most is that now, I cannot remember what I was trying to tell myself to do!
I have also been dreaming frequently about my highschool chums. It has gotten to the point where even if I cant remember the subject or details of my dreams, I KNOW if the dream was in some way related to my highschool gang because of this lingering warm feeling in my shoulders, upper arrm, and chest. It is impossible to attatch any logical rationale to all of this- to the emotions, dreams, and imagination, because if I did, somehow the memory of it all would be altered forever. And my memories of highschool are perfect, or rather, recall the perfect.
THis poem is by far the most bizzare poem that I've ever had the pleasure of explicating for Lynn Stowers in 11th Grade Lit. Comp.
The Emperor of Ice-Cream, by Wallace Stevens
Call the roller of big cigars,
The muscular one, and bid him whip
In kitchen cups concupiscent curds.
Let the wenches dawdle in such dress
As they are used to wear, and let the boys
Bring flowers in last month's newspapers.
Let be be finale of seem.
The only emperor is the emperor of ice-cream.
Take from the dresser of deal,
Lacking the three glass knobs, that sheet
On which she embroidered fantails once
And spread it so as to cover her face.
If her horny feet protrude, they come
To show how cold she is, and dumb.
Let the lamp affix its beam.
The only emperor is the emperor of ice-cream.
I have also been dreaming frequently about my highschool chums. It has gotten to the point where even if I cant remember the subject or details of my dreams, I KNOW if the dream was in some way related to my highschool gang because of this lingering warm feeling in my shoulders, upper arrm, and chest. It is impossible to attatch any logical rationale to all of this- to the emotions, dreams, and imagination, because if I did, somehow the memory of it all would be altered forever. And my memories of highschool are perfect, or rather, recall the perfect.
THis poem is by far the most bizzare poem that I've ever had the pleasure of explicating for Lynn Stowers in 11th Grade Lit. Comp.
The Emperor of Ice-Cream, by Wallace Stevens
Call the roller of big cigars,
The muscular one, and bid him whip
In kitchen cups concupiscent curds.
Let the wenches dawdle in such dress
As they are used to wear, and let the boys
Bring flowers in last month's newspapers.
Let be be finale of seem.
The only emperor is the emperor of ice-cream.
Take from the dresser of deal,
Lacking the three glass knobs, that sheet
On which she embroidered fantails once
And spread it so as to cover her face.
If her horny feet protrude, they come
To show how cold she is, and dumb.
Let the lamp affix its beam.
The only emperor is the emperor of ice-cream.