February 2012
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and become flesh
But every memory is turned over and over again, every word, however chance, written in the heart in the hope that memory will fulfill itself, and become flesh, and that the wanderers will find a way home, and the perished, whose lack we always feel, will step through the door finally and stroke our hair with dreaming, habitual fondness, not having meant to keep us waiting long.
Marilynne Robinson,...
January 2012
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December 2011
17 posts
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EMPTYING TOWN
—after Provincetown
Each fall this town empties, leaving me drained, standing on the dock, waving bye—, bye, the white handkerchief stuck in my throat. You know the way Jesus rips open his shirt to show us his heart, all flaming & thorny, the way he points to it. I’m afraid the way I miss you will be this obvious. I have a friend who everyone warns me is dangerous, he hides bloody...
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November 2011
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it was so foolish and touching to think at one...
…everyone was too young to grasp that our life was folding in on itself—it was so foolish and touching to think at one point that somehow we would all be spared, but the ashes pushed forward and covered an entire city with a departing cloud that was driven by the wind and kept ascending and the images began getting smaller and I could see the town where he was born as the ashes flew over the...
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beluga whales
What did you say? she asked.
Nothing. He was very tired. The woman smoked in silence. Do you ever
wonder about beluga whales?
Geryon asked. Her eyebrows were startling, like two ascending insects.
Is it an endangered species?
No I mean in tanks in captivity just floating.
No—why?
What do they think about? Floating in there. All night.
Nothing.
That’s impossible.
Why?
You can’t be alive and think...
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Listen
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