We will need to break the patterns of the universe if we can, she says. And you know, god being a dead woman, won't mind.
we love to see it break.
she says, they love to see them break. and we are her and we are them. and we love. we lovewelovewelovewelovewelovewelovewelovetoseeitbreak
what do you hold
i went out my whole life betting on a type
of love
i've never known
mine the fallow banks
deep fissures where i stored i
set down for safe keeping
forgot how to be what type of person
there's no difference between a word
and a want, the edge of your face skinned
& an alphabet cloaking sound
the dark matter of the poem
In its flight from death, the craving from permanence clings to the very things sure to be lost in death.
-H. Arendt
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