"At noon our bare knees hit the pavement without flinching. Friendship was an exquisitely inflexible choreography of confession and betrayal. Books were weapons."
— Lisa Robertson, “Pure Surface” (via elisabethworkman)
where i run with the sentient light and plant. can you see all the little hairs / the little pails? they are so bright_and_long / everything feels almost like a crime scene / i’ve never met light that cared so little for humans.
a woman from the community college just called to say / she’s in the department that will consider me / i am on file. i hope my file grows pink aluminum over it / as way of conducting good energy. one day i hope to try to explain what / metal vegetable is.
last night we watched solaris with spicy indian cakes from the dumpster. the woman above is filled with the animal grace of neutrinos. i wonder if her blood is also blue until it hits the air. she was made from an alive alien ocean so maybe it’s more like trenchant fishdogs + lava + mushroom linings. i would like to cinch my hair with a leather strip, too. a leather strip with a little soot on it in the forest green room / turned away from us.
i am thinking of sea turtle nests and ancient floridian sea graves both when i go to the store to buy olive oil. they used to bury bodies in the shallows of water area / they placed gentle stick tents above them. something about that reminds me of holding turtle eggs / them glowing through my handskin / that shade of red peach. delicacy i guess. but an intensity of it. wolfgirls.
what has been accidentally acquired: 4 avocados, 2 oranges, 2 bunches of collard greens.
what has been accidentally acquired: sylvan esso - coffee
will soon embark on this project with elisabeth.
i don’t remember what we were talking about on the phone, but e said, your poems don’t necess. use the word pussy, but they evoke it, pussy, pussy. now there’s a certain dead house we pass on the way to the ocean that makes me think of the water / reclining / inclining / saying pussy, pussy. waves / raw disintegrating mounds. it is very very hard and very, very soft today. i wrote two long letters. what i miss most, i said in one, is just women / being around women.
what sound will end the day / what sound in what creature / what hosed ivy am i in the forehead / what plastic will go by the house slapping a thigh / what tangle ceremony.
"One of the most significant aspects of the heretic movement is the high status it assigned to women. As Gioacchino Volpe put it, in the Church women were nothing, but here they were considered equal; they had the same rights as men, and could enjoy a social life and mobility (wandering, preaching) that nowhere else was available to them in the Middle Ages. In the heretical sects, above all among the Cathars and Waldenses, women had the right to administer the sacraments, preach, baptize and even acquire sacerdotal orders. It is reported that Waldes split from the orthodoxy because his bishop refused to allow women to preach, and it is said of the Cathars that they worshipped a female figure, the Lady of Thought, that influenced Dante’s conception of Beatrice."
— Sylvia Federici on “Women and Heresy” in Caliban and the Witch