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Fred |
here under the statue of liberty and the pyramids
and the silent dusk. Link your arm in mine and
give me your furtive smile.
Let us walk together for a time.
(In my mind, I have tethered the continents
with a piece of rope and mixed the sands
of their shores. I have carved a careful radius,
sectioned off the fathoms and latitudes.)
We accept our fate as a myth or a fable
or a children's nursery rhyme, told in confidence,
told in disbelief. I myself feather the tale,
sand down the edges down, print it on glossy paper.
I myself frame it squarely in truth and oak.
We cover up the fragments and the distance
with rags of rags and words, with tattered
sentences. I try to draw the sunset on the horizon,
direct the stars with semaphores.
I accept us as separated flesh
or thinned blood or slabs of ice shaling
and sloughing off a moving glacier. I have
siphoned off the length of things.
I have no answer for the breadth of them.
Labels: Fred
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Dalia |
Wind soars around high buildings, screaming,
kicking up dust particles into eyes.
Walls smell of years of cigarette smoke.
A President’s portrait hangs over the heads of a populace.
Cabinets groan from swelling.
They splinter,
Exploding with an aged archive,
Their knots like bunions split,
and they kick up the dust of today.
Dank concrete retains its urine smell;
Echoes of voices are thrown around cold corners.
II.
Why should she find counsel here?
It is not our job to do any of that.
We haven’t turned around.
Maybe someone can take her as a pity case.
She is okay with any avenue.
We can also talk about her in the third person.
Shuffle her over to us.
We will decide what to do.
I can arrange for her to see them after I first prioritize the ones behind her and then if they are willing she can wait and then I will come back if she is still here and then they can plan to meet and then contact me and she can go and I will wait and then return before
She can have the chance to decide
III.
The bare angry sun melts wounds,
blurring the wounds of a cramped crowd.
Turnstiles and metal detectors filter the wicked.
Concrete stairs connect the labyrinth of an administration.
Moldy splinters pierce the essence of a bureaucracy.
Damp bills circulate
into the hands of uniformed turnstile and metal detector chaff.
Labels: Dalia
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Fred |
Labels: Fred
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Fred |
to seize the ocean between my fingers
I scrubbed my arms with the sand of the beach,
wrapped a boa of seaweed around my shoulders and neck
I climbed a mountain of sawdust
drew a path through rainforest with my thumbnail,
I incinerated the sky
I laid the forest to rest in a bed of ash.
Labels: Fred
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Fred |
WHOO WHOO
Mariko: fuck you
Fred: WHOO WHOO
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DrewTM |
Falling with the rain just outside your car door,
Whispered in the silence before you finally say it,
In your neighbor's cat's box on Christmas Eve,
Every day, lie so many of the important things in life.
Labels: Drew
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Fred |
I live my life here as if I were entirely certain of a second life, as if for example I had entirely gotten over the failed time spent in Paris, since I will strive to return soon. Connected to this, the sight of the sharply divided light and shadow on the street paving.
For a moment I felt myself covered in armor.
How distant, for example, are the muscles of my arms.
-Franz Kafka
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Dalia |
gathering on the edge of "foreign" cultures;
gathering on the half-life, half-light of foreign
tongues, or in the uncanny fluency of another's
language; gathering the signs of approval and
acceptance, degrees, discourses, disciplines;
gathering the memories of underdevelopment,
of other worlds lived retroactively; gathering the
past of a ritual of revival; gathering the present.
--Homi Bhabha
Such is your present removal from what you take to be your native land. For by nature there is no such thing as a native land, any more than there is by nature a house or farm or forge or surgery, as Ariston said; but in each case the thing becomes so, or rather is so named and called.
The modes of conspicuousness, obtrusiveness,
and obstinacy all have the function of bringing
to the fore the characteristic of occurrentness in
what is available.
Such is your present removal from what you take to be your native land. For by nature there is no such thing as a native land, any more than there is by nature a house or farm or forge or surgery, as Ariston said; but in each case the thing becomes so, or rather is so named and called.
--Plutarch
The modes of conspicuousness, obtrusiveness,
and obstinacy all have the function of bringing
to the fore the characteristic of occurrentness in
what is available.
--Martin Heidegger
Narcotics cannot still the tooth
That nibbles at the soul.
That nibbles at the soul.
--Emily Dickinson
Labels: Dalia
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