Thursday, August 18, 2022

Both Incidental and My Own

Weeping quietly for the dead in the arms of one who does not weep for the dead, quietly or otherwise. A music the chickens make, right before the the light changes. Who will play with Judas?

Non-posturing Buddhists. Her letters arrived in unpredictable patterns, there was no mail on Saturday, Friday was feast or famine, exquisite either way. She was angry in ways that I could not face, she loved me in a way she was not interested in facing. 

Losses I am only just now seeing. Cars breaking down are not moral crises, be clear on this. A loneliness I am only just now seeing is both incidental and my own doing.

Can transference be a useful fiction, of course but both parties must be in on the game. Once you understand that sex is about power, everything simplifies. Where is your Christ now, brother?

Bother. Daisies wilting in the back yard under the apple trees, some things you can't save. Oh so this is what you mean by being human.

And: begin. Pellucid light, no birds, a heaviness in the shadows that comes from moisty - mostly lightless - deeps. This prayer you continually fail to interrupt is not as bad as I feared it would be, please don't interrupt.

Beyond father and son, to the mother and then beyond the mother, nor God nor awareness, and not "this: this this" either, but lawfulness and the neutrality that lawfulness brings forth. I mean religiously, in your mouth.

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