Ah, the things you didn’t choose—that tomato, the green dress, some countries, one summer. It’s a tease, the perfect tilt of a hat the wind would never crumble or a careless friend let dissolve in rain while he laughed at a parade. Lady Chatterley is good, but Women in Love would have surely been better—at […]
and the fields are wet too, the grass, the questions we press together to answer. You are the last candle from the barn I blow out. Sunday wish, we are alive only a short time. What is the purpose of a field if not to lie in it?— So we […]
The trees, a madness of white & wind, we, a madness of sweat & rope, ropes of semen lassoing each other, closer— our competing, conspiring tongues, nipples, armpits, the terribly neglected inside bits of our elbows, which we’ve dubbed “bowpits,” & kiss. & my mind sometimes wanders during, but it’s OK, I’m thinking […]
Maybe the centipede in the cellar knows with its many disgusting legs why I am sad. No one else does. I want to be a sweetheart in every moment, full of goats & xylophones, as charming as a hill with a small village on it. I want to be a village full of sweethearts, as […]
Your hatred of colors finished her off: your hatred of the pagan and razor blades. Flamsteed takes her away from her stomach ache: It is my structure, I will die beside her. You have what you wanted. It was Alicia: not the diamond. No destruction: yes you turned your back, you bit so deep. […]