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Itching Taste: A Poem

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Itching Taste: A Poem

Sharing a simple poem that sprung from my Morning Pages practice today.

Charlotte Dune
Jan 26
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Itching Taste: A Poem

charlottedune.substack.com

I, like many creatives, practice author Julia Cameron’s habit of “The Morning Pages.” Three daily pages, written by hand as close as possible to waking. Not familiar with the practice? Read yogi and writer, Lauren Aune’s essay on it here first.

Today’s Morning Pages grew a poem. Enjoy. Tell me if you can relate. Tell me what you yearn for.

Thanks for reading Charlotte Dune's Lagoon! This is a variety publication, with fiction, non-fiction, and poetry. Subscribe for free to receive new posts. If you are a writer of color who would like to work as a paid contributor to this publication, please get in touch.

“The American Attachment” by Jordan Seabery (2021)

Recommended Soundtrack:

Itching Taste

I’m really itching for something, not sure what…

Powdered energy, a cigarette, nicotine gum, vodka, marijuana, running, a trip to Gilligan’s Island, a fitted red dress, brand new shoes.

It’s a strange itching like I forgot how to taste.

My thoughts are a child learning algebra.

I look for a missing blanket, the ghost of a threadbare cotton t-shirt.

My mother cut it with scissors into a pie wedge for me to carry, Big Bird’s smiling face, but instead, I cried.

I searched for a hug or a drug.

For something, something, something.

Always something…

But what replaces what was lost?

A banana milkshake

An earthquake

A Nigerian dwarf goat

Good vibrations

Old records

Designer dogs

Weightloss, weightlessness

Sugar

God

A cold swimming pool on a humid, electric Sunday

Waiting for a plump apricot to fall from its tree’s hand

Again, a forgotten taste.

A Maserati or an airplane

A handsome man with soft lips, supple skin, and calm eyes whispering words of “I love you.”

“You are beautiful exactly as you are.”

THE END.

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Itching Taste: A Poem

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johnphilipking
Writes johnphilipking
Jan 31Liked by Charlotte Dune

I love this, Charlotte. I prefer to just read completely through a poem without really thinking about it in the moment; I try to keep my logical mind from getting in the way of things, if you know what I mean. Itching Taste triggered a feeling of deep familiarity, and an echo of something difficult to articulate. Memories, I suppose.

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