".ngay khoảng khắc miu chạm tay vào tóc cô, sumire đã yêu, giống như cô đang băng qua một cánh đồng thì đùng! một tia sét giáng thẳng xuống đầu cô. một điều gì đó giống như một mặc khải nghệ thuật."
/ haruki murakami / người tình sputnik /
/ ali shapiro / dirty talk II /
_
pretend that i’ve forgotten who i am.
pretend we’re sick,
describe the symptoms: our wild slam-ming hearts,
our fever-flush, our violet veins throbbing.
pretend i’m blind, and tell me what you see.
pretend it’s possible to think after you speak,
that body can trump brain which can trump body, translating the words
into impulses, firing from nerve to twinkling nerve.
pretend we’ve found the way to heal,
between things and names, the divide:
you be the signifier. i’ll be signified.
_
_
/ charlie smith / park diary /
_
“i dream,” rae says, “that i am a water source. not a spring in the mountains, but a clear pool in marshy country from which rivers flow.”
“like the okefenokee,” i say, “a bowl of water, from which rivers flow.”
“no,” she says, “a dream source, small and rounded with indeterminate banks, set in a golden marsh, from which rivers flow endlessly in all directions.”
i look out the window at the park. wind blows harshly through the tree tops. some of the maples have lost their leaves in the crowns, like old men gone bald.
“i am exhausted, yet inexhaustable,” rae says.
i’m scared to death most of the time, but go on anyway.
_
