Friday, March 20, 2015


Had we not wanted we could never have been obliged. A month of visitations: seated in my red chair, I felt a blur at the periphery of my left eye. A small gray rat sat in the living room, his fur sleek and clean. He vanished, like the others. We're obliged to those we want to see, even when they come in other bodies and leave again without them. The shells of their bodies litter our rooms, exposed to the air and us. Crawl inside: they are camouflage, armored personnel carrier, barrier against all the anger there is. We enter them like empire, beholden to what it inhabits. It takes courage to buy vegetables, to walk down a street, to stand inside a building. I'm glad you came, but please don't come again.

for Brian Turner
--20 March 2015

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