Sunday, June 14, 2020

Men are Perilous Adventures

"Truth has no need of us" is not precisely the case as absent us, what truth? I do oppose monologic ontologies, but am wary of being used to advance dubious ends. Men are perilous adventures, the whole history of us makes this clear, and yet we go accommodating their  - our? my? - wars and machines and societies. Wanting you away from the world is to lay claim to a healing that perhaps was created to be public, general, for all The hayloft roof slants a certain way, peaks above narrow pine beams wrapped in blue Christmas lights. Sighs and cries and hungry kisses accentuate what. I mean to speak against "the tendency to lay claim to a certain spiritual state against the need for clarity in our troubled collective." Teachers, prophets, hucksters, wannabes. Lovers. Blue fades to the white, the profluence of light, yet white is never without a hint of blue. For all the trouble sex has wrought, we still show up for it, pulling our weary bodies into beds rendered briefly prismatic. One falls to sleep beneath fast-moving clouds eclipsing then revealing distant stars, the distance a dream any child could undo. I did once. Thus, this: this this.

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