“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.”—Junot Diaz (via luciaferr)
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.
The 2014 Rincon Classic in Ventura County, Calif., drew 250 surfers this past weekend but the talk of the international event was a pod of dolphins that rode the waves alongside competitors in the women’s finals Sunday afternoon.