violet woods

familiar is only an ache.

my father is a dying man. dying, meaning, helpless. man, meaning, violent. and what do you do with a helpless violence except fetch it its glasses?

“I do not write every day, I read every day, think every day, work in the garden every day, and recognize in nature the same slow complicity. The same inevitability. The moment will arrive, always it does, it can be predicted but it cannot be demanded. I do not think of this as inspiration. I think of it as readiness.”

“Eros is expropriation. He robs the body of limbs, substance, integrity and leaves the lover, essentially, less.”

“I never imagined that so many days would ultimately make such a small life.”

“The blood on my teeth begins to taste like a poem, like religion, like the way you look at me.”

She would transform herself into sacred food. She would eat light, not matter; become food, not eat it. She would be consumed to become the host and consumed again as it.