Adrienna RichcielxinfiniDecember 15 2010, 22:02:04 UTC
Dialogue
She sits with one hand poised against her head, the other turning an old ring to the light for hours our talk has beaten like rain against the screens a sense of August and heat-lighting I get up, go to make tea, come back we look at each other then she says (and this is what I live through over and over) - she says: I do not know if sex is an illusion
I do not know who I was when I did those things or who I said I was or whether I willed to feel what I had read about or who in fact was there with me or whether I knew, even then that there was doubt about these things -
Karla HustoncielxinfiniDecember 15 2010, 22:04:00 UTC
Niagra Falls Jumper Explains
I wasn’t trying to kill myself, not really. It was just there: the water and the falling music of it. I was in need of that sort of rush, a sort of deathsong baptism like the day I drove across a bridge and had this urge to accelerate and aim for the side, dive over the abutment and rush past every temptation. I just closed my eyes and mouth and let the water hold me, the cold cocoon of it tumbling and throwing me against everything that had ever gone wrong.
Comments 25
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Une orange sur la table
Ta robe sur le tapis
Et toi dans mon lit
Doux présent du présent
Fraîcheur de la nuit
Chaleur de ma vie
(An orange upon the table
Your dress on the rug
And you in my bed
Sweet present of the present
Freshness of the night
Warmth of my life)
Reply
She sits with one hand poised against her head, the
other turning an old ring to the light
for hours our talk has beaten
like rain against the screens
a sense of August and heat-lighting
I get up, go to make tea, come back
we look at each other
then she says (and this is what I live through
over and over) - she says: I do not know
if sex is an illusion
I do not know
who I was when I did those things
or who I said I was
or whether I willed to feel
what I had read about
or who in fact was there with me
or whether I knew, even then
that there was doubt
about these things -
Reply
Without warning we lose
the vastness of the fields
singular enigmas
the clarity we swear
we’ll preserve
but it takes us years
to forget someone
who merely looked at us
Reply
I wasn’t trying to kill myself,
not really. It was just there:
the water and the falling
music of it. I was in need
of that sort of rush,
a sort of deathsong baptism
like the day I drove across
a bridge and had this urge
to accelerate and aim
for the side, dive over
the abutment and rush past
every temptation.
I just closed my eyes and mouth
and let the water hold me,
the cold cocoon of it
tumbling and throwing me
against everything
that had ever gone wrong.
Reply
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