mooresy va reading project

"When insomnia, which is the philosopher's ailment, is increased through irritation caused by city noises; or when, late at night, the hum of automobiles and trucks rumbling through the Place Maubert causes me to curse my city dweller's fate, I can recover my calm by living the metaphors of the ocean. We all know that the big city is a clamorous sea, and it has been said countless times that, in the heart of the night in Paris, one hears the ceaseless murmur of flood and tide. So I make a sincere image out of these hackneyed ones, an image that is as much my own as though I myself had invented it, in line with my gentle mania for always believing that I am the subject of what I am thinking."

the poetics of space, gaston bachelard, pg. 28 Continue

a preview

We Rot Together

When you speak your first words

I will remember how

my fluids filled your airways.

How our dying bones hooked,

tangled in some divine love –

partly sharp, partly soft wool.

We rot together.

When you go to die

I will give you

paper gifts, combs, and jars.

I will close the house,

keep the rooms still –

every cupboard open.

I will love you dead.

Continue