not a pretty picture. not a good. not a bad. picture. but an argument.

Saturday, January 19, 2013

the dense blanket



i sleep with masahisa fukase, the great sleep
lay the density of my body like a blanket over him
in this way his raven heart is stilled
to know he is not alone
i lay beside him, on him, over him
my female wound sealed off, my human wound gaping
my small black bird soul as isolated
as any word, continent
or moan.

(with thanks to roxana)

7 comments:

  1. masahisa fukase, please~

    https://www.google.ca/search?q=masahisa+fukase&hl=en&tbo=u&rlz=1T4TSNP_enCA475US476&tbm=isch&source=univ&sa=X&ei=9cz6UP_XGOfm2AWmjYDICA&ved=0CJEBEIke&biw=1311&bih=588

    thank you roxana))))))

    xo
    erin

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  2. oh erin

    only you could do this, feel like this, be this... oh


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    Replies
    1. roxana, i smile and say, yes, i imagine this is so. but this is no easy statement and not an easy one to swallow necessarily, each of us tied intrinsically to our way of being.

      xo
      erin

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  3. Masahisa died three times, and the last one, he was surely accompanied with him the one that Poe called the "Wandering from the nightly shore".

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    Replies
    1. damaso, i awake and read your comment and awake again with a start; he died three times. i have always thought that death was secretely our most fortuitous arrangement, all value being derived against the transparent wall of it, however in this case, in the case of masahisa, i can not abide by it. it seems too cruel. one death, alright, but three and i can not help but open with empathy and compassion and want to undo or assuage such cruelty. i wonder what he would have chosen. if he chose no pain then what art might he have created? what lukewarm life? perhaps even he would have chosen three deaths. one can never know but i become weak in the face of his pain.

      xo
      erin

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  4. you have captured the key sublime moments right here

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  5. You captured this moment, the intimacy, the closeness, the comfort of being together, all layered, complex evoking of what two people create for each other.
    I feel like stealing this!

    ReplyDelete

"Words at the limit of hearing, attributable to no one, received in the conch of the ear like dew by a leaf." (philippe jaccottet) or even a quiet presence is appreciated))