Tag Archives: woman
I can go on. Sometimes you fall off the edge of a sentence and find another one waiting for you there, like the billowcushy arms of a cloud-woman, or keenly lighted wraith, and you can go on, holding hands with … Continue reading
It was, in a state of psychic undress, where I found I wanted to reveal, more than to confess, scoring a litany of wounds, and bruised valentines, to the expectant cask of woman’s fired dawn, beyond reproof, and failsafe fronts.
Where you are not, I have found just cause for form, blanks folded and tucked, to cinch gapes and frayed cords.
Invention was your solitude, your twin, wasn’t it, Miss Nin? The way you spread secret pages like silk violet capes, like fringed shawls, over an air of mystery, and err of desire. You enabled symmetry, to confess. Why couldn’t a … Continue reading
It begins with a stopwatch, and a glass of water. The stopwatch belonged to her father, or to her father’s father. The glass of water is a joke. Imagine trying to remedy all that desert within, all that scabbing red … Continue reading
She, the pearl-diver, master of holding her breath, breathes out, and rises.
I understand, you let the wrong one in again– doors close, doors open. (Artwork by Nigel Van Wieck)
Suspicion assails, Why did he give this to me? The scent of a trail. (Artwork by Paul Klee)
Every last kiss, a rupture in her psyche– Unsteady walk home. (Photo by Henri Cartier-Bresson)