I am having to do this here alone. No one to tell me when the ocean will begin. I came to explore the wreck. The words are purposes. The words are maps. I came to see the damage that was done and the treasures that prevail, the drowned face always staring toward the sun. This is the place and I am here, the mermaid whose dark hair streams black, carrying a knife, a camera, a book of myths in which our names do not appear. -Adrienne Rich, Diving Into the Wreck.
Thursday, June 27, 2013
Wednesday, June 26, 2013
they will be unable to
in the beginning god
came to you those hours you in
threshold stood
in the frame-- snowy
right knuckled, ciggy-
holding-finger
out door, you turned back, kept
with softlight over your shoulder
the memory would be
wholly warm if you could just
forget
your arm
your arm
god came then
those threshold hours / months/ years
in the kitchen
or wherever you talked to the frigidaire/ who was god it was kind
of an accident/ it was before you knew
you'd have the power
to exonerate them all/ not the sky
eyes above the sheets but
the others all the others
who come after, who came before and
washed
you through with voices, eyes,
leafs and numbers:
8s, 11s on plates you count them
you ask them stop breathing
you ask them stop breathing
in my ear, please leave my shoulders be
the Voice-Washers will thencome,
to wash, wash, away numbers
you will ask/ are they washing away god?
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