three sections from golden infection
have you been able to locate who i am in the time it has taken to get here? your memory leaves its marks. but the rest of the body has to believe something about you in the world. try: the patriarchy is a fungus that has no mother, or patriarchy is a microfungus that has a horrible mother. here’s where we need a cheat sheet for a takedown on principle, our strategies for the win of what’s left of this world. maybe compersion combined with omniscience is the ideal of the limited narratives we collect sometimes (note as possibly helpful- you gave me that idea!!!). i have observed the behavior of infants nuzzling into their mother’s necks and have thought: anyone can do that, and anyone can say “it’s ok”, into the many very close ears
*
in the midst of what’s mostly a monarchy, my mom said:
myth and method are not mutually exclusive. one might
make itself clearer as if you were mishearing something
but instead you can hear through a thing and you can
turn it into what you need from what you needed to find
(this is method) and mine for meanings. you might ask
well, it’s multiple- i am ready with my reply. the other
(myth) is manifest in the warnings we send ourselves
for instance a gold transport of glimmering
over a surface that we previously thought had depth
*
what part of your process of forgiveness is traumatic for people living halfway across the world? a piece of space is easily occupied by a shape, so carefully bend your conversation into a river entering the media where limp statements are quickly consumed. a kangaroo peeks into a man’s pants and exclaims, “oh no! i think your child is dead!” it’s the same with media, actually. i often feel like poetry is the least truly shared thing but i mean poems. poetry, actually, is everywhere and entering us like insomnia all the time, only sometimes as poems. but here we are. are you here, too?
