“To write words I put a symbol in place of an absent sound. To write the words ‘I love you’ requires a further, analogous replacement, one that is much more painful in its implication. Your absence from the syntax of my life is not a fact to be changed by written words.” – Anne Carson […]
Tag: Love
Postcards from Istanbul /1
“What impels me to write you all the time? Before I can even turn around to look, from the unique destination, unique you understand me, unnameable and invisible, that bears your name and has no other face than your own, before I can even turn around for a question, at every moment the order to […]
Book Review: As Meat Loves Salt by Maria McCann
As Meat Loves Salt by Maria McCann My rating: 5 of 5 stars How do you write about a book like this? Wait. Let me take a breath. Then a step back. Then another. We begin again. When I read Hanya Yanagihara’s, “A Little Life”, I scarcely believed, I would find another book that moved […]
Book Review: Pages for You by Sylvia Brownrigg
Pages for You by Sylvia Brownrigg My rating: 4 of 5 stars A lover told me to read this. A lover just like Anne. Sophisticated. Unattainable. Impossibly beautiful. I desisted for a while. Months. Read it, she said. “Read it. You’re all over it.” Now I have read it and I understand why this book […]
Museing
Your body takes my mind hostage. Undulations and curves, cascading sinuosity, the convex and concave. This is the shape and form of desire. Lust is fugitive. It bleeds beauty. It makes my eyes drink down my thirst with a stare. It pulls the breath from me; slowly like a contraction. Then suddenly with a gasp […]
Dirty love and watermelons
There is only one way to eat watermelons: like you love – with abandon. “I’ll share my watermelon with you and only you. That sounds dirty but my God I like it.” No forks then, no knives, and no spoons. Bare hands eating. Only then. And only if. “Any other way to eat watermelon is […]
Proof
The crevice of my ear still carries the hint of your breath, shoulders bear the weight of bruising Your grip is stencilled into flesh, yet fingertips trace a trajectory of the spine with unbearable lightness A forensic nightmare, my body the whistle-blower of surrendered intimacies and forbidden trespasses The feral scent of our […]
