August 7

(going through old magazines -- 'nope, don't throw this one out!')

There’s a man with a fist of fire, balancing on a telephone wire, underneath a no parking sign; then there’s a family with a baby carriage, and you’re going out with a junkie. We meet in the arena every morning, to do dishes together, stare into canyons and count the colours, call each other sister, brother.

I was nothing if not ecumenical, nothing if not inclusive -- I wanted everyone to share, I did not reject a soul. But men like to split things up, attach signs; women shriek aloud at spiders, and hang laundry on the line. The trees downtown are choking, automobiles addicted to smoking; I wish I was joking but I haven’t laughed in years.

Revolution means going in circles; the sun revolved around the earth, now it's earth around sun. Your revolution will take you nowhere, you’re out to brunch and around the bend. That was the beginning, this is the end...

"I will not say kiss or darkness or love, but I will kiss you, I will love you, and you will not see anything because of my darkness."

(yowzah, that last one's spooky)

No comments: