So busy these days reading the books they tell me to read, writing the papers they tell me to write. But still, steal time to make a way out of that order, into something hopefully better. Reading Absalom! Absalom! and Go Down, Moses and and post-colonial (better called post-anti-colonial) takes on his work. Estas palabras se me salieron, these words just saved themselves on the page:
you already know right? no glory in the conquest. pathologically raveling out. not our job to stop (them). echoes of nostalgic rock the room the body quakes. an aristocracy of weary gestures merits no tirade. as if furious moaning over dolls. the only dispossession my own timidity. no need to speak no one. should anyone? then no hands no strings. worlds of historical trampsing. no time to scream the bayou lords over and only gargling words just below the surface.
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My students have just read A rose for Emily for the modern lit class i teach. Interesting (and teenager) point of view. As I lay dying used to be my favorite faulkner's, i wonder if it would still be.
love the words that just saved themselves on the page. a poem, indeed. you are a writer. and from me:
A Poem for Dill
Flowers from my garden
A lighted candle a photo of
You
Always the same
No one mentions this office altar
Here where patriarchy tries
At every turn
To kill the soul.
Black and white
Always my favorite
Substantial
Soporano
Glorious contrast outside against
Color and greenery
Sensual sleeping partner
Chiquita's successor
Beautiful beautiful boy
Shock me
Eyes open mouth open
Soul gone yet
Living still inside me
Body still warm pliant
Stretched over the bedroom floor
Enlarged heart
No surprise my gentle one
Who gave joy purring silent
Big hearted
Grace
what black and white on green do.
what we could imagine if only.
as you say, the patriarchy.
something about a cat makes it all. and then in, but a.
before sleep the hardest moment.
for all of us.
and him.
if only, a flash of memory to draw in the turkeys.
jp
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