A History of A Future

October 19, 2019

Dark Night By Daylight begins in the grass behind the house
as the shadow of the roof is disappearing into sky.
And
then
it
was
as
if
several
things
happened
at
once.
This is an old idea. The things we bring to the picnic are all
old ideas. Bread and water, salt and cloth.
The
lines
of
your
part
will
be
whispered
in
your
ear
At the moment you’re meant to speak. In the trees,
settling birds speak one last time before sleep
And
you
always
want
to
think
you
have
heard
something
new
It is only a jay, and it may take delight in
making a fool of you, your small skipping heart.
Can
you
try
to
be
open
to
whatever
you
might
hear
Your line was to toss a small rock at the closed
pane of a window in the just-dark house.
The
dropped
sound
falls
straight
down
to
land
in
open
ears
The best part is the end, that incidental
silence that shows the rest for what it was.
The
last
sound
of
the
props
being
tossed
in
the
cloth
And gathered to carry away, and carried away.
The senses are left behind, senses left in the emptiness.

Carolyn Guinzio

keep everything

August 31, 2019

I possess pieces of you. I keep them under my skin against my soul. With other lovers, there was nothing, an emptiness. But from you I keep everything. Always I keep everything.

P

an alchemist of life

February 28, 2019

I would have preferred if you had loved me less and understood me more. But perhaps you didn’t love me enough, or didn’t have the imagination, madness, or balls to become an alchemist of life like I was, to spin gold out of the boredom and emptiness that surround us.

Margarita Karapanou
Rien ne va Plus
Trans. by Karen Emmerich

silences

October 31, 2018

lichtwelt, Light,

I want to write a book about the silences that fall between spoken sentences. Those moments of hesitancy between two people. It is, after all, such silences that we try so hard to fill – with words, with music, with the world’s endless cacophony. These silences reflect the distances between stars, the emptiness of space that traps the unwary dreamer in icy solitude. These silences can be the making or breaking of us.