God is at every funeral disguised as god the ghost death couldn’t keep
Keep getting the same sore throat. Hit puberty in a cornfield while listening for dogs. Give for free your father’s tadpole to a thief in a shrinking city. Take no joy.
Here is what it's like. There is a task you tell yourself you can do. You need this, and that. And then you know you have this, but not sure you have that. Where is that? Is it a tool? Where are all your tools? You need to keep track. So you name them, even if you don't know what name to give them. And you picture where they are, right now, and how far they are from your bed. Can you walk there? You are so tired. And then you think maybe asking these questions will help you sleep. And then, suddenly, sleep is a tool. For one very specific job. That takes more than two people. And here I am. I almost do things and then imagine hearing my footsteps. What if we're not creative at all, but instead share gut bacteria that lays our sentences over the wrong words? I can't possibly be a good father or a good husband or a good son. Not because I'm dying, but because I'm dying. I had no right to ever be dying. I have I have that dream that I have that dream where I know I'm dead because I remember all my passwords. I am sick of needing art. In these times, they say, we need art. They are right and they are ill. And in trying to sleep and be sick and not die I am suddenly thinking of Nick Stahl in Eye of God which leads me to Kelli Garner in What Josiah Saw which lifts me to Martha Plimpton in Mass. And now I'm here again loving art with eyes that cannot witness and a death I mock with restlessness. And then I remember how I wrote out of the blue to so many about their art and how it brought me back to hiding in a cornfield from someone with a sore throat and christ how unfair Blue is to everyone.
If you say In Ohio I am from Ohio Be more Specific Grief is a place You can’t just say Grief is a place Griefly invisible
no matter that ghostpack of cigarettes under baby brother’s pillow- He breaks his hand in a poem
Time gives itself a childhood. Alien, animal, beast, breast. God loves a beginning. Painkilllers don’t age.
We walk to the car. Sometimes the car is different. If I look closely, I can see that I’ve put my son under my shirt. A video of a mother’s finger getting shut in a car door gives me a toothache. Searching lessens the find. There aren’t many pictures of us with our mouths open. There are things we can do to make it look like we don’t go outside. Choice is a medicine. You can eat or you can write, but you can’t do either. Clearly, thunderstorm, jesus had such a short memory that god became necessary. All babies in my dream, dream.
Two birds with one deer. Touch is touch teaching touch the backstroke. The nude think snow can die.
Beth de Araújo's Soft & Quiet is a doomscroll of hidden proximity that will tattoo insomnia on even the most thoughtfully awake. I'm not sure I can recommend it but know damn well it needs to be seen and looked away from in equal measure, and vice versa. Difficult and driven, it deserves all be present. Its one-take illusion puts its menace in so many real places that one feels followed, directly beside, winked at, and eye-level with peepholes marked for repair. As art and as document, it is too true to be based on anything, and is instead ripped into existence by an air breathed by characters who sleep beneath empty symbols and make nothing of vandalism save what's already been carved onto the surfaces of their untouched and wrongly examined lives. It's dark here, in the light, and we know these people. ~ Thomas M. Wright's The Stranger is a bewitchingly downbeat true crime thriller both anchored and spirited away by the eidolic performances of Joel Edgerton and Sean Harris, each of which use a resigned urgency to centralize the haunted hinterland of retroactive pursuit. Edgerton eats worry in his sleep, and Harris sees friendship as starvation. Evil here grows older by being younger than time.
an animal not sold on god angels near its dinner of mock and make and make
kingsoftrain 