December 24, 2010 § Leave a comment
Apparently ‘Aminta lay’ in the arms of Arphra Behn ‘all night long’ and it was a five. A clear five. No frills or frollicking, just good decent ‘let’s pretend we’re hetero’ sex.
And at that moment in time my great-great-great-greats (and possibly greats) were planning fiestas and siestas in the blackest corners of Holland, making their blue-eyed babies and heaving out their blond heirs-and-spares.
I swear to the Great Pantheist Mother (whom I have created in my head for lack of friends) that I will be more. What is more, and what is less?
What is mathematics? What is value, what is worth? What is feeling, what is not? What is bird and what is moon? What is dawn that comes too soon?
I tell you this: it is imagined.
I am an idea; you are an idea.
My great-great’s mentioning of claws clinging was ‘imagined’.
And there is a world out there, an alleged world that exists beyond the one we sense (so sensitively) and deliver to our heads and twist about and tangle until: there is no world but the one in our heads.
And so this alleged world is merely mentioned: this is a process.
And this, this is mathematics.
December 20, 2010 § Leave a comment
Ever heard that Billie Holiday song? No? Make it your morningful.
My body has a strange fruit too. It’s blood and poetry (oh ovary), and sometimes bloody poetry.
And when I’m dramatic like that, I like to write it up:
I have 1,624,323,135 seconds left to live.
That’s 6,024,017 tea-drinking sessions.
And 617 periods left to have. No, wait, I forgot the menopause.
Well, it’s a while.
But not so long a while.
And if you’re here, it’s because I want you here. I wouldn’t waste one of those 1,624,323,135 seconds on anyone bad/sad/mad. Maybe sad. It would have to be ‘worth it.’
You see, it’s not so long a while. So I shall stay here a while.
December 12, 2010 § Leave a comment
Throat clearing like a forest in distress.
I am on fire for an entire five seconds.
I lick my teeth to remove lipstick smudges. I click my case shut. I shuffle paper.
Can’t love. Won’t love. Don’t have the love to love. Don’t have the love to give.
I am you of yesterday. You break I; now I bear I.
Look at the island, says the wave to the whale.
What does it feel like to be washed ashore? What does it feel like to give?
Is the sky too cracked to be sealed? Surely you want sunlight? Surely you want yellow in your windowframething? Surely?
Is the sea too salty to be swallowed?
Am I too unsure to be a sure thing? Is the tree too tall to be torn down?
Is the attic too dark to be slept in?
AM I TOO DARK TO BE SLEPT IN.
Are we too dark to be seen in the dark?
ARE WE TOO DARK TO BE
crept in on.
December 4, 2010 § Leave a comment
I didn’t meet my love at the gasworks wall. In fact I haven’t met my love at all.
I’ve had some dreams though. Last night you were welcoming in the winter in your leather warmers. This was a dream. You are a dream. Your left shoulder is a dream.
I haven’t ‘met’ my love. More and more I come to know the panic and the fever. I’ll be okay. You are my mother.
I’ve seen my love as large as thunder and as loud as day. I’ve seen her rolling in the snow beside the postbox and the pillar. I’ve seen her shifting from one foot to the other. I’ve seen my love loving another.
The phone rings loudly by the door. Will you answer her? Please be okay.
I can’t be okay for the entire world.
I’ve tried. I am a measurement, a metre and a bit. But that’s just it- that’s not enough.
Not for my love. She loves another.