Poem 415

The previous poem was Proust-like in its approach to memory and his concept of involuntary memories – but the title here refers more to the sprawling nature of In Search Of Lost Time and its quotidian longueurs (or so I understand as I haven’t yet read it) … the half-finished ‘novel’ that’s talked about here is of course not a book but my life … the impossibility of understanding anything when you’re in the middle of it …

Proustian

So many people in this novel
after a thousand pages there's still new ones
cropping up
                        it's a bit confusing
but you know how it is when you're halfway
through and you're used to using it as a pillow
at night
                 I'll finish it I mean
though they spend all their time
in rooms talking and it's one of those stories
where all of a sudden
                                             nothing happens
but if you look back to the beginning 
you realise how much things
have changed for young
whatsisname
                           our protagonist
point of view
the one behind all these I's