He couldn’t speak words he didn’t know about feelings, truths, mysteries, and ecstasies he didn’t understand. He couldn’t bring himself to speak of the shame amplifying within him, though he tried, parting this stitched-up lips to speak.
Be My Man
The Old Packard; Willem de Kooning, Police Gazette, 1955; How To Deal With An Intruder; Tineola Bisselliella: Common Laundry Moth
I think Mr. de Kooning, if he’s still alive, is the one who needs a psychiatrist. Or maybe he’s in jail, which is why he named the painting the Police Gazette.
Embodied; Mining; Natural Position; Writing to Miles
I don’t know why I’m here, walking on fissured tar bubbled by roots.
Who knows what else this great disturbance of earth awoke?
Change; What’s Comfort
I’ll sit in one of these two green chairs. Two chairs. One me. (Again she’s here alone.) A plane draws a thin white line in the air. She drifts and dreams: and wonders who has flown.
Climbing Down; The Death of Seraphim; Sex
Under her flowing silvered hair the chambers of her brain echo with strange voices from as far back as she can remember.