“Sometimes I feel I have nothing in common with anyone.
I shamble through the day, […]
and each new hour with each new person is a cliff I can’t climb —”
— Freya Manfred, from “Nothing in Common,“ Speak, Mother (ed Dragonfly Press, 2015)
Sometimes on summer evenings, when the light is almost gone, when everything has taken on a heavy, exhausted aspect, there can be felt in the air a restlessness, a furtive rustling, a burgeoning of desire.
– Mark Strand, from “Mr. and Mrs. Baby,” Mr. and Mrs. Baby and Other Stories (The Ecco Press, 1994)
this blog is actually me dissecting my own corpse in an anatomical theater and you are all standing up on the rows looking down at me cheering and booing
