“I told you when I came I was a stranger”
snow-blind (in summer!)
and dulled by desire
I, forged, forgotten, fogged
I so often wish I could bring you sensations, moments, bits of the fabric of things. Today, on the edge of the forest, white throated deer ate new leaves off of saplings a few feet away, as I, black clothes stark against the bark, picked sap and brought it to my face. These moments, like the rocks, in some way unmoving, smooth, clever. I wish to bring these to you untarnished by translation, and in the same moment I know it to be impossible. But I know that very soon we will be in the same room – and that that is the closest two humans get to seeing, as one, the quality of light in an afternoon.
I am (slowly)(too quickly?) finding a place to stand after a long time of not needing (or wanting) to
My mouth tastes like raw egg yolk and the soap I try to wash my hands with has been sitting in its own juices for so long that it comes apart in my hands, oozing. I feel like that soap. So saturated as to have changed my chemical state.
Recipe: 1. Write tangled poetry 2. Watch one David Lynch Movie per day 3. Be patient
I tie a thin strip of leather around my wrist. I drive across the country. I say “I love you” and for the first time in a long time the words make it past my lips. I take polaroids of the people I love. I climb walls. I eat sardines out of the back of my car. I listen. Tears of rapturous gratitude overtake me
“Maybe take this as a time to search in some of those dark places you don’t go to everyday”
“It’s good to see shadow – people have to take care of the shadow”