kismet

“REVOLUTIONARY LETTER #14 are you prepared to hide someone in your home indefinitely say, two to six weeks, you going out for food, etc., so he never hits the street, to keep your friends away coolly, so they ask no questions, to nurse him, or her, as necessary, to know ‘first aid’ and healing (not to freak out at the sight of torn or half-cooked flesh) to pass him on at the right time to the next station, to cross the canadian border, with a child so that the three of you look like one family, no questions asked or fewer, to stash letters, guns, or bombs forget about them till they are called for, to KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT not to ‘trust’ even your truelove, that is, lay no more knowledge on him than he needs to do his part of it, a kindness we all must extend each other in this game”

anne carson: why does tragedy exist? because you are full of rage. why are you full of rage? because you are full of grief

anne carson: why does tragedy exist? because you are full of rage. why are you full of rage? because you are full of grief

My mind is a wishbone drying. I hold it taut & pull to break.

I’m a visitor in my own bedroom. // I’m the village beauty of a ghost town.

Sorrow was our favorite place to undress, hoping time / would be a forgiving God.

& what happens is, the man walks into whatever place he wants,

from “Good Me’s Saudade of Bad Me”

I’m an orphic phantasm, hair combed through with stalactites I’m a bouquet of limbs appliquéd on pouring rain, what can the spectral evening muster in lament?

“You are twenty. You are not dead, although you were dead. The girl who died. And was resurrected. Children. Witches. Magic. Symbols. Remember the illogic of the fantasy.”