Emptying the Importance of Approximations

"I don't need therapy
I don't need an overhaul
Or lessons in geography...
To find my way back
Ask me to stay

I don't need therapy
And I don't need closure
Or lessons of your history...
To find my way back
Ask me to stay."

--We Are Imaginary


 

Armed, Luminous

About sacrifice, I am not

so sure now. A river falls or rises

according to what leaves

or enters it.

But sacrifice is not the river. Compassion

is not what leaves. For what enters,

I have many names - I’d decide if I could,

if I were meant to. There’s an instinct

that is rare but does occur in humans,

the ones who themselves feel

no different - it’s any hour,

forgettable - as they turn toward the work

whose power will break them

eventually, and make their name.

I turn everywhere,

I see shapes by which

a holiness declares itself more

and more, as if to be noticed

were all it wants of me. The body,

for example, in a cloud

of mayflies stalled briefly in a light

that passes: now the moon -

now the stars appearing, choir-like,

with a choir’s tendency to make

the soloist at once seem lonelier,

and more complete. I’m not reckless.

I’d comply, if I could. In dream,

there’s a choice: precious freight,

or the barge that carries it,

or the water without which a barge

can at first seem nothing. I choose the water,

I choose with a wisdom that looks effortless

because it is. It’s that kind of dream.

--Carl Phillips

The Life We’ve Made

                                         
                                            See things do come around,

                                            and make sense eventually,

                                            Things do come around,

                                            but some things trouble me

                                                           -Ghost, Kid Cudi

Because tears are a sign of weakness:
we fawn at the sea turtle for shedding
her tears as she buries her eggs to hatch.

How brave, we say, as she drags her body
 across the sand. How lovely
to show warmth in a cold, sad world

 full of death, full of violence.
But the body knows when its about to die.
The body acknowledges when it is the end

and death circles you in small amounts of coziness
until you accept your fate. In a story about passing:
 I found myself standing on the edge of a grave –

 the stale smell of orchids, the metallic scent
of crushed grass, and the sight of a body
encased in a refined wooden box.

 Here, I tell myself
 grief is an ocean we must return to.


--Dominique C. Santos

Life on Loop

Armed with the knowledge that we knew nothing,

we braved the world hopeful; lost but not yet unhappy.

After a midnight drive, we’d have a bottle or six,

with two or three doses or more. We’d sit on the hood

of the truck and whistle until the sun finally rose,

celebrating thoughtless daze—O what I’d give

to relive them again. Like a warning, one day

Jericho said: “Alienation, the point where a human

bonds with anything to make existence bearable—

man’s failure to connect.” He was studying Psychology

in college and was torn between taking medicine or law.

I heard he’s a doctor now specializing in neurology,

and married somewhere in Baltimore. He did alright,

I thought, and I’ll probably never get out of here.

The truth is I go up the hill often. You see, it’s difficult

to want to come down when you’re high up there

all the time. Like an endless loop, in my mind Jericho

is still speeding and I am about to disappear into light.

In my hands I hold the only solace that pacifies

my listless days. I hear nothing. All the rest is noise.

Forgetfulness

Been looking online for Skies of Ember's Forgetfulness since 2012. It's oddly satisfying to find it again. I hope I can still get a copy of the EP.

Shout out to Dott Seki and the rest of the band. I hope this link never disappears while I don't have a proper copy of your record.

Nocturnes III

To the aimlessness of speeding
on roads bereft of light
An ode to every morning
I woke to find you've gone

My mind emptying
in the failure to recall
How my eyes looked away
on the day of your death

Back when I'd pretend
not to hear your voice
So I write to the Future
and you fade from every thought

What is the consequence of being
severed from another soul?
All our losses caught
in the remainder of our days:

All this time, where does it go?
All my love, where does it go?


04/30/2011

J.D. Salinger: A Memo

I finally watched the J.D. Salinger documentary film. I still love his work despite the fact that he was a terrible husband & father. I'm even angry & sad because the film confirmed my suspicions: he's a pedophile. However, I'm still looking forward to reading his post-humous work. I gotta admit, there's much to be admired about his dedication & how he manages to communicate revelatory insights. But A. & I agreed on one thing: You can be a good artist without being an asshole. So if you're going to be "a great writer," don't do it at the expense of others, especially your loved ones.

Some of my favorite Salinger stories:

• For Esme--With Love & Squalor
• Uncle Wiggily in Connecticut
• De Daumier-Smith's Blue Period
• Teddy
•  Franny & Zooey 
•  The Catcher in the Rye

Some of my favorite quotes:

From "Teddy"

"I have a very strong affinity for them... but they don't love us that way. I mean they don't seem able to love us unless they change us a little bit."

-Teddy's response when asked if he loved his parents

From "Seymour, An Introduction"

"Could you try not aiming so much? If you hit him when you aim, it'll just be luck.

"How can it be luck if I aim?"