memory hole

We used to ask what might come after the orgy — mourning or melancholia?
Jean Baudrillard, The Illusion of the End

Martin Puryear, Woodcut for edition of Cane, by Jean Toomer (1923)

I’m trying to remember if spring always starts out this slow. Cherry blossom photos start popping up online. Winter’s scandals begin to blend into sales for sandals. Days stretch beyond blue twilight.

We desire soft power, wash out our ghosts, and pleasure places we neglected.

Us dandy men and hard women eventually repent the same—on our knees. Quietly, let us break down to the softness of desecration. Vandalize public anticipation, then escape into too much artificial light.

 

body as an arguement

sex scandals are time stamps
tenacious denials in constant motion
caught in the heart of our throats

we collect these daily reactions edited towards fortune
while retribution becomes a chimera as forthcoming
as justice or glacial landscaping or forgiveness

feelings are now citations of replicated intuition
ancient categories of visceral intimacy siding with self
sacrosanct representation     (a politic)

swelling to release multiple truths
charming double entendres entwined
bound to furious calculations of power and risk

the way white anger colludes with fear
a curious seduction of inductive logic
recast as an approximate commitment to devotion

embraced invasions
meat, text, and soul

transfixed politics

Our bones are built of spirals. – Joy Harjo

Nicole Eisenman, Untitled, 2012

I.

our wildest prophetic imagination
has led us here: a shattering of sex
uncomfortable
deep
looking

II.

calm & concentrated
I saw two waves lock
like elk horns
then embrace

III.

truth of feelings
as charm offensives
as wet feathers

IV.

divine signs
pushing forward

V.
smoothness is both a measure and a lack of roughness

hook & claw

Geh in der Verwandlung aus und ein.
[Be conversant with transformation.]
— Rainer Maria Rilke, Sonette an Orpheus

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

i believe in omens
and my own ability to shatter and reform
— ​Jill Khoury, excerpt from “Sixteen”

New Orleans, Oct 2016

oh righteous revelry
please indulge this faithful attempt to clarify

so many modern relationships still lean feudalistic
as nobles dance to blue note promises & scheme for eternal life

it rings visionary to trust what is mine was never yours to take
a redundant mythology now inadequate as waning winter light

temporarily, we sense an emerging surrender to the hushed hues of sexual panics
on a grand scale psychic interiors were smoothed flat like apathy or political truths

there was a collective ache for a state of respite from all this revolutionary suffering
as conviction loops into endless realities it is our sacred duty to carve out revelations

we are only possible when testimonies illuminate just beyond the sharp edges of darkness

Russian gossip

We ignore the narrator by only focusing on the frame.

Hulleah J. Tsinhnahjinnie, “The Promises Were So Sweet,” digital print on poly satin, 2010, Great Plains Art Museum Permanent Collection.
Hulleah J. Tsinhnahjinnie, “The Promises Were So Sweet,” digital print on poly satin, 2010, Great Plains Art Museum Permanent Collection.

The city moves, bends, and swallows.
An act of congress, a coming together.
He presented himself to me. I kissed, gently,
his upper thigh. Curated outfits, a collection of pants
and blouses, roll past me. Lunches bounce inside bags.
I keep writing to feel around the noise. Reinvested
memories, commitments, and occasional flashes of violence.
Internalized scandals are my own reputation to manage.

The train was crowded. No one could complain
about unwanted touching. I imagined her hand
moving slowly, without detection, up and between
my legs. Her fingers, warm and steady, found
their destination. Leaving behind permanent
invisible notes, secrets scrawled on the inside.
Messages shared as rumors as indisputable
associations like light shining through solid objects.

meat of my eyes

“…abstractions of bureaucracy and government and capital destroy real, actual, human bodies.” –Daniel Borzutzky

Point Reyes, CA Dec16
Point Reyes, CA Dec16

there was a request to have erotic mean more
to expand beyond the perverse
a subjective benediction

intimate corporeal wishes
like hope or joy

in that moment I was nothing
I was forever
beyond a body

my ideas are infinite
aren’t you

when you touched me
there
it reminded me of when I stopped asking questions
simply, repeatedly letting go

tactics

hello Jan10
hello Jan10

each day unwinds into itself
each one of us an appetite
expansion releases
preferences: wild

context is so specific

his throat tatooed punk
another directed his gaze
I gave him what he wanted
performative resistance as lifestyle

mimesis

what is your habit energy?

Pacific Ocean, Nov16
Pacific Ocean, Nov16 (photo by Atlee)

We perform our own strategies of consumption.
My short-term memories are hidden between my thighs.

Othered desires are masks. But for whose protection?
Entertainment is currently discounted as politics.

Feeling expendability like breath like faith.
You can order custom misfortunes or xxx or standard subjectifications.

Our stories are our truths.
This is my museum-quality curated experience.

cut on the bias

adipocere, hand embroidery on natural linen
adipocere, hand embroidery on natural linen

The earth shook itself awake this morning.
With a low-key grumble and heavy embodied motion
our unnested Russian cat dolls fell, one by one.

The unnerved mountains had no comment.

We took a collective breath as clouds lined up like teeth
and moved gently to memorialize our survival.
As witness to the sublime, we occupied time.

Santayana, the philosopher, said history is nothing but recorded dreams.
The poet Stafford said divine is more of a claim.
Those stanzas are now trending.

There is a way to be in this world and this must be it.