The wildness of the flower is all in the tone
Fanny HoweWhy does a heart wear its eyes
into hell
like slivers of false sunshine
The ring comes whenever it will
because it's dark
where the mountains mother
and being stuck in one spot
is something to ring bells about
There is no longer any class outside the class of character, and no history to put your faith in.
You can actually live as if you have no culture, no perspective particular to a date in time.
You are an individual whose prime and solitary property is your own body.
Dying becomes a hell beyond all reason or justice in this ahistorical context.
We have often had this particular exchange about climate and landscape and why we both feel so lonely here uprooted. It was what each of us had wanted of course.
Besides wanting to experience a place we hated, we wanted to be insomniacs and loners, losers and drop-outs. To know the sky was the only location of meaning and joy left to us.
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