
The sky is black.
I sneak in a writing session
after work, dinner, and shower.
A dream interpretation told me
I will receive good news. I wait
to tell me you are on your way home.
The sky is black.
I sneak in a writing session
after work, dinner, and shower.
A dream interpretation told me
I will receive good news. I wait
to tell me you are on your way home.
“Today was one of those non-days as if in a parenthesis, …” —Etel Adnan, Shifting Silence
Workers move the product from the field
and from the factories to the trucks
to the table and into the mouths of bosses
so full from efficiency they are starving.
A love for language and its capacity to remind,
to provoke, to destroy, to build—all ways
to make meaning within life’s chaos.
That duality of attraction and repulsion,
to be godlike, to declare a voice,
to make nothing something.
“Absence is harder to accept than death.” —Etel Adnan, Sea and Fog
August is a month of dedication.
Be like the cloud-burning light,
and ask yourself, was it on purpose
or an accident, and then try to decide
which wrong answer is easiest to forgive.
Is your faith in the disembodied voice of unlearning
or the recollections of a still life, untouched?
That’s the kind of sensory deprivation I echo.
You must assume there is truth in this translation.