Subject: levels of edit | Date: Sat, 14 Aug 1999 23:03:58 -0400 (EDT) | From: paula | To: undertow@vega.org || Hello tow, | Forgive me, I'm drunk. My girlfriend has gone off to Iowa to be with her nieces, and I'm here with my dog. So I'm drinking lots of beer and listening to Lou Reed's Magic and Loss: not a good combination. I'm thinking of my father, who's been dead for 3 years. || "If I close my eyes, I see your face | and I'm not without you... | If I try hard and concentrate | I'm not without you... | If I try hard I can see your face | and I'm not without you" || Oh hell. There's no one I'd rather share this with than you, and although you're a wonderful bunch o' people, that's pathetic as all hell. || The impossibility of making herself understood in any way || at seven in the morning on the day of your death | i saw you in the kitchen | did not speak to you | thought i'd see you later || on such a night as this | on such a night | the usual relay of twilights | if there had been another hour | on such a night || can i make this any plainer? || *written March 21: 11:30 am* || this delicate day in late March | late morning | reading Ginsberg | stared down the long relay of twilight to darkness | then the door opens & gold on your face | dog sitting in sunlit window | my skull resting on pillow | aching skull & sad heart || no: this writing is not exempt: it remains like all writing a pathetic attempt to make you understand that *my heart is breaking* || if you could speak | what would you say? | my god: what solitude are you in now? | my only father lying facedown on the garage floor | frozen wondering | was summer ever coming? || do you see those birds? | i stared down the long relay of twilight | north american time || i would stop all clocks for you | i would laugh in death's face for you || i would kiss you | if you'd let me || these drunken thoughts | these Saturday thoughts || the tiger, embellishing itself -- || one of my favorite lines from any poem is by Sylvia Plath, and it goes like this: | "You are the one solid the spaces lean on, envious." || every goddamn time i read that, i think: i'll never be that, no one will ever feel that way about me. || all these fairy tales swallowed by night | all these things i tell myself || i hate what this life does to people. i remember when i would write in my apartment before i went to work. i remember copying poems by Jorie Graham and carrying them in my pocket. i loved the feeling of pen on paper, creating something out of nothing: ex nihilio. black letters of fire. || thinking now of Philipp Hofmann and Suzy V. wishing i could impress with words. | the problem is the door and finding its opening. || i must name myself and give that name meaning. i think these things are up to me. || i can find my way in solitude: does not scare me. i know it terrifies you [speaking now to my girlfriend]. your anger scares me. i don't know what to do, i forget myself. i never get angry. i never show it. i get angry all the time. || "you have to be very strong cause you'll start from zero over & over again" || thinking of who i used to be. | days & days & days -- || forgive me. i can't explain this to anyone. this is my indecisive memento, these levels of edit i put myself through. forgive me. | paula