posts culled from other sites and brought here
But when what was was up and running, when there was blood and friction and motion to its form, we didn’t think about the skeletal. Nor the physical laws, the carbon dating that would explain what it was about us that was worthy of eons of study. We were in the thick of it.
My seat, the catbird with the view of the whole busy, tiny trattoria where three waitresses attended to the full crowd, had offered this same view to a thousand other would-be someones. The cobblestones outside had brought a thousand thousand past the doorway.
If it goes, you go, really, with it to the scrap heap. And the robot runs the work, while you nestle without pain into the witch jar of rusted nails and half-broken thumb tacks and sharp memories claimed to be forgotten. You dream in the lemonade, you start floating around with the chili pepper, you burn and reformulate.
Don’t start leaving that body quite yet. I need it: there’s a laugh I left in its throat that I need returned. There’s a kiss caught in its lips, an embrace lodged in its arms, a love that runs along its spine like a silk ribbon and I can hardly be made to do without any of them.
Black Lives Matter. And we have to share that truth so that it is our truth. Not a truth caked over by Whiteness, that veneer…
I don’t know that they like me very much and today was a bad day with no you in it and me just bobbing about after getting cracked up against the fact that you can call it a new start all you want, but if you still have the old poison in the barrel…it’s going to be hard to pull out a good apple.
Those hopes to exist without risk, without presence or engagement, or bearing the weight of being the object in the lesson, they’re actually as unhelpful as a bathing suit in a blizzard. Because this isn’t that kind of life. As painful as the change thus far has been, it is not even the beginning of it.
In metaphor, good metaphor, you always find a little bit of truth. We say a lot of bullshit, but we wouldn’t say it if we didn’t want you to hear all the little words beneath it. These are the first words we learned. With no extraneous syllables to muddle it up. Me. You. Love. Hurt. Loss. Stop.
I made my own meaning in the absent man dreaming himself to his lover, surprising her with a kiss.
I don’t exactly know what I was thinking. I am flying across the ocean, over thousands and thousands of miles of salty, brackish waters of…