the goddess lens

Eventually I realised that I needed to look directly into the face of rhythm that turns the wheel of time, the rhythm that, moreover, doesn't exist. And I thought to myself that I needed to excavate the faceless face with language, excavate the face with the rhythm embodied in language. I came to think fervently more than ever that someone involved in such idle labour is a poet.

Meeting with X for feedback on the latest draft. He clearly dislikes it and I find myself playing along. For instance I say ‘This draft is a total shambles’ and he says ‘Yes, I see that.’

In the epilogue, I am alive again. I spend my life serviced by AI entities called Humphreys. I dedicate my time to creating sculptural pieces based on my memories of the monument designed by the women we lived with back in the late 80s/early 90s.