Becker’s belief in reality, his faith in meaning, and his understanding that meaning can be communicated, has value, and originates in consciousness; are all affirmations of human life. These are ideas worthy of gratitude.
I’m going to die, and I want my experiences, as much as I can control them — which is not much — to be experiences with art that makes me feel something.
Round-headed, round-eyed, curious, astonished, like an owl or a sea lion, but white as moonlight: a lynx with feathered feet, a little snow-colored kit, bounding. Hullo, you silence. Hullo you secret joy. Take flight into the blackest forest, where the wild boar still roots with a coral-pink snout. Let him find you his one prize, […]
Frog eyes glimmer in water then douse themselves and shiny turtles topple off a log down to the water’s under-black when I step out skin form and sun hauled out of layers of trees spring wood summer wood the bark and pith to walk and stand at shore and trying not to move […]
WAITING Monday April 16th At the barre at Miss Allie’s I lean and dream: onstage alone where the spotlight glows, fears of an audience scatter like stage dust. Music flows through me – it always does like air and blood moving my limbs to dance in ways that push me out so close to the […]
I wish this waiting felt more like work. I’m so tired
of cataloging all the things we’ll miss. Plastic, pollen,
Some evenings, it’s the Tejano thump from a Chevy
Tricked-out, all lowdown & shit, slow slinking up
Our dead tree street, reverberating the 120 bpm
Into our thin-walled fifties bungalow. Other times
I was nine years old when my mother came to me,
told me of her
designs for the modern black woman.
“No more pain,” she said.
It’s 4:15 am
and I have woken (again)
to read a chapter
of Lolita and the Metamorphosis, two books
that were never meant
to be read together
Dear Susannah like a bird
I am going to drive out today
to the desert, you know the place