Technically, the weight of pain is the weight of shadow.
Carl PhillipsWill it be salt or late light that it melts like?
Carl PhillipsThe sea/the same then as now: more blear than blue, more/blue than silver
Carl PhillipsMots clés slants-of-light
It was then we found ourselves too many fields away from
where we'd meant to be, with regard to desire, to get there
ever, even if—though this was not the case—we'd been
told the way.
Mots clés love-and-lust
When was the burning that of fire?
When was it fear?
When sorrow?
That any gesture can be understood as the necessary, mostly incidental price the body pays for whatever response comes
past gesture,
past the body that made it:
to what extent can this be said, and it be true? and it be false? Under what conditions?
Under whose conditions?
Thus the waves. Thus the light of the sun across them.
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