☀ visual inspiration
Loaded on beer and whiskey, we ride
to the dump in carloads
to turn our headlights across the wasted field,
freeze the startled eyes of rats against mounds of rubbish.
Shot in the head, they jump only once, lie still
like dead beer cans.
Shot in the gut or rump, they writhe and try to burrow
into garbage, hide in old truck tires,
rusty oil drums, cardboard boxes scattered across the mounds,
or else drag themselves on forelegs across our beams of light
toward the darkness at the edge of the dump.
It's the light they believe kills.
We drink and load again, let them crawl
for all they're worth into the darkness we're headed for.
-David Bottoms, Shooting Rats at the Bibb County Dump
"‘What’s not to love?’ I said simply. ‘He’s my brother.’"
-Rob Thurman, Chimera
"And now time is rushing towards them where they stand side by side with arms touching, immortality on their faces,
night at their back."
-Anne Carson, Autobiography of Red
"‘I can’t really think of anything that I can do,’ John whispers."
-Brandon Scott Gorrell, during my nervous breakdown i want to have a biographer present
Shadows grew in my veins, my bright belief,
my head of dreams deeper than night and sleep.
Voices of all black animals crying to drink,
cries of all birth arise, simple as we,
found in the leaves, in clouds and dark, in dream,
deep as this hour, ready again to sleep.
-Muriel Rukeyser, Night Feeding
My shadow said to me:
what is the matter?
Aren't there enough words
flowing through your veins
to keep you going?
-Margaret Atwood, The Shadow Voice
What would you say if I said a reserved girl
enamored by what dwelt in shadow
was selected by the horrorterrors for service
and did their bidding at every step
while convinced of her own autonomy?
to the dump in carloads
to turn our headlights across the wasted field,
freeze the startled eyes of rats against mounds of rubbish.
Shot in the head, they jump only once, lie still
like dead beer cans.
Shot in the gut or rump, they writhe and try to burrow
into garbage, hide in old truck tires,
rusty oil drums, cardboard boxes scattered across the mounds,
or else drag themselves on forelegs across our beams of light
toward the darkness at the edge of the dump.
It's the light they believe kills.
We drink and load again, let them crawl
for all they're worth into the darkness we're headed for.
-David Bottoms, Shooting Rats at the Bibb County Dump
"‘What’s not to love?’ I said simply. ‘He’s my brother.’"
-Rob Thurman, Chimera
"And now time is rushing towards them where they stand side by side with arms touching, immortality on their faces,
night at their back."
-Anne Carson, Autobiography of Red
"‘I can’t really think of anything that I can do,’ John whispers."
-Brandon Scott Gorrell, during my nervous breakdown i want to have a biographer present
Shadows grew in my veins, my bright belief,
my head of dreams deeper than night and sleep.
Voices of all black animals crying to drink,
cries of all birth arise, simple as we,
found in the leaves, in clouds and dark, in dream,
deep as this hour, ready again to sleep.
-Muriel Rukeyser, Night Feeding
My shadow said to me:
what is the matter?
Aren't there enough words
flowing through your veins
to keep you going?
-Margaret Atwood, The Shadow Voice
What would you say if I said a reserved girl
enamored by what dwelt in shadow
was selected by the horrorterrors for service
and did their bidding at every step
while convinced of her own autonomy?