nocturnes:
one moves through life continually leaving things behind and that's one definition of class, the degree of one's loss is also the degree of one's vitality, one's ability to sustain small constant amounts of loss. art becomes a memory more than anything else, a kind of chooser, it shows how we were touched
—eileen myles
what i need is a peace and quiet. not yr public hips.
i'm not afraid of definition. in fact, i find comfort in it because rarely do i grasp it and rarer still is it lasting. but i also don't privilege it above indefiniteness. making meaning and assigning value—primarily expressed linguistically, but arrived at mentally/emotionally/spiritually—are actions that participate in economies not entirely of my design nor entirely under my control. which is to say, i recognize the arbitrary and impermanent construction inherent in definition itself.
capsules of energy
like we're standing face-to-face
lips-to-lips
breath-to-breath
in blue speedos
arms outstretched
fists clenched
round sparklers
and spinning
do you know that i haunt you? but i'm more a flirt than a stalker.
we must forge a language together.
i am onstage backstage with patti. we are shooting the shit. drinking champagne and smoking cigarettes. i keep dipping my hand in the water. eating ice. not vulgar. nice.
he wants us each to do a solo dance for everyone else as audience. i don't. he will follow with a performance. he doesn't.
m.s. and i and line. crushed velvet curtains draw me in.
looking at:
listening to:
1 comment:
i like u blog constructions --the writting rocks awell. keep doing it
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