"I think the average guy thinks they’re pro-woman, just because they think they’re a nice guy and someone has told them that they’re awesome. But the truth is far from it. Unless you are actively, consciously working against the gravitational pull of the culture, you will predictably, thematically, create these sort of fucked-up representations."
"Dr Einley explained that even if he caught him and brought him back to the colony he would immediately head back for the mountains. But why? One of these disoriented or deranged penguins ended up showing up at the New Harbor Diving Camp, already some eighty kilometers from where it should be. The rules for the humans are do not disturb or hold up the penguin. Stand still and let him go on his way.
Here he was, heading off to the interior of the vast continent. With some five thousand kilometers ahead of him, he was headed towards certain death.”
— Encounters at the End of the World (2007), Werner Herzog.
(Source: spleenwheel, via caitlinmcguire)
Le flamand rose
Body Painting - body art
Dirty dove, I loved you even
when you ate the heart
of a deer — sliver of dark
meat quivering on your tongue-tip, heart-
ache wrought from the tip
of your knife. The most tender flesh.
That which you taste
only just after it dies. Barely dead
it bled to death still beating
in your hands. Beheld:
the doe and her fawn, the black
hooves knocking the blue glass
of the ice, the thicket
lined with the fur
of a hare, the circle of chalk
where she stood just before
she fell. Arrowhead — heart-shaped
bird — feathers flared
at your tail — that which guides
you. One heart always seeking
a place to dive — always seeking
another with its same beat.
For a moment we moved
in the same breast —
tongue-tooth to tongue-heart —
heart mouth to mouth
with all our jagged red teeth.
Thought of this old poem when I dug a feather out of the ground today.
photo of effigy mounds http://www.nps.gov/efmo/index.htm
After-Cave is also about how we are part of and separate from and rub up against the non-human world, what some might call the “natural” world or the “wilderness.” These words go in quotes because conceptually and linguistically they are made things, and what I am attempting to describe is the world that isn’t made by humans but is rather made or co-created and shaped by creatures or weather or other forces which we may or may not be able to detect or name.
The world of After-Cave is a feral landscape, a haunted place of shelters and ruins, burrows and houses, thickets and churches, mountains and factories, mud and schoolyards. Familiar and ethereal structures create incidents of habitat and erasure, wondering about the borders of the feminine, the human, the animal. In other words, it is full of mirrors.
The narrator of After-Cave begins by telling us: “I am 15. Female. Human (I think).” Right away she wishes to be known to us as she is known to herself and others, but she also needs to tell us that her relationship to those terms is uncertain, those categories and markers troubled. She is at the threshold of seeing through language, of knowing and feeling what is most difficult to say, and of knowing and feeling that what is said often hides what is truly known and felt. The parenthetical gesture of disclosing her own confusion is therefore a gesture of intimacy to the reader: she wants to tell you the truth.
of hollows (drafting) →
yes all women
injurious as dust
of our sharp rock
of spinning into
skies to waters
our rough old sun
so bright for us
the tvs & the fires
the private diaries of the saints
the beloved maturities of the women
the fairly cwen, her blousy robes & pinny hairdo