July 14, 2020
So, the title, “Lullabies for End Times”…
Pure coincidence. If you believe in that kind of thing.
Poetry is the sharpest knife seeking the deepest cut.
Who said that?
I wrote it in a poem years ago and say it often, but every time I write it down, I stop & look it up, because I’m sure I’ve heard it somewhere before.
Divine madness, mad divinity, irreverence, ineffability, revolution, rebellion. Shiver Quality. That in-between silence & the train.
You know, the one that passes by in the rain, stops time, your molecules disperse in the spray, mist, and woosh. That moment you are sound splashing up through your bones. Your breath is caught in the wet hem of your skirt. You are you and you are not you and you are everyone around you and you are no one. The million singular moments like this we are spun by in a lifetime, and rarely recognize with, or attempt to share with an other. And then you are “back,” and you know where you’ve just been more specifically than where you are.
Anyway, one train may hide another, as Kenneth Koch wrote.
Did that ever happen to you?
I don’t know. But I remember. It’s all I ever remember.
What do you think is going on right now (2020)?
I’ve always had a hard time identifying as earthling. But. Full reckoning. Nature will out. White cis straight patriarchal ego death.
What is this thing, called love?
Love is a transgression —to be fully witnessed is awe-ful. It is a wonder so many faint hearts long for such brutality.
How do you define life?
A series of altered states.
Well, was this good for you?
I don’t know. It’s late, and I’ve never been good on the spot. I’ll call you in the morning. If you believe in that kind of thing…