#bomblog

What is my mother tongue? American history has complicated any opportunity for me to find out what my mother tongue would be. There are so many tongues that have their place here. Some still exist. Some are extinct. So which one? ... I believe, like these histories, it is a mixture of tongues, a mash-up of rule and conquer, assimilation and adaptation. And in the States, my tongue is kind of an orphaned one. I’m trying to locate the cousins and aunties to my tongue, if that makes sense. So, yes, my “native” tongue is me, but it’s not all of me.

Books and dying languages

EXISTENTIAL ARTISTISMS

HELP YR SELF HELP SELF

I often think of my poems as people I’m hanging around with. I want some of them to be mopey and depressing because I like mopey and depressive people, but I also want some of them to be funny.

We are absorbing all the language around us. All the language we’ve read. All the language we’ve spoken and the language that’s been spoken to us throughout our lives. When we actually sit down and are attentive to words, to language, all of it comes. All the language comes out.

BEING ALONENESS