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“Madness as a defense against terror.
Madness as a defense against grief.”
― As Consciousness is Harnessed to Flesh: Journals and Notebooks, 1964-1980
Madness as a defense against grief.”
― As Consciousness is Harnessed to Flesh: Journals and Notebooks, 1964-1980
“His eyes they held the most dangerous thing, they held the top of the sins. Indifference. Indifference. A vacancy where human care should be.”
― Wake, Siren: Ovid Resung
― Wake, Siren: Ovid Resung
“When you left I walked
into the ocean. Not to
drown but to be held
by something
reluctant
to let go. Don’t
make this bigger
than it is, which is big
enough to swallow
whales
and civilizations.
I joined
the blue, I was blue.
And when I looked
down, I shattered
and reformed
so many times, you know, I couldn’t catch
a clear look at myself.”
―
into the ocean. Not to
drown but to be held
by something
reluctant
to let go. Don’t
make this bigger
than it is, which is big
enough to swallow
whales
and civilizations.
I joined
the blue, I was blue.
And when I looked
down, I shattered
and reformed
so many times, you know, I couldn’t catch
a clear look at myself.”
―
“[B]ecause now
in this moment which is so wondrous the way
it lies beside you, I either do not exist or the past
has never existed, either my breath is
the breath of stars or I do not breathe as I turn to you,
as you breathe my name, my heart,
as the net of stars dissolves above us, as you wrap
yourself around me like honeysuckle, the moon
turning pale because it is so drained by our love,
so that before this moment, before you lay beneath me,
you must have disguised yourself the way the killdeer
you pointed out diverts intruders to save what it loves.
pretending a broken wing, giving itself over finally
to whatever forces, whatever love, whatever touch,
whatever suffering it needs just to say I am here,
I am always here, stroking the wings of your soul.
—Richard Jackson, closing lines to “Sonata of Love’s History,” Heartwall<?i> (University of Massachusetts Press, 2000)”
― Heartwall
in this moment which is so wondrous the way
it lies beside you, I either do not exist or the past
has never existed, either my breath is
the breath of stars or I do not breathe as I turn to you,
as you breathe my name, my heart,
as the net of stars dissolves above us, as you wrap
yourself around me like honeysuckle, the moon
turning pale because it is so drained by our love,
so that before this moment, before you lay beneath me,
you must have disguised yourself the way the killdeer
you pointed out diverts intruders to save what it loves.
pretending a broken wing, giving itself over finally
to whatever forces, whatever love, whatever touch,
whatever suffering it needs just to say I am here,
I am always here, stroking the wings of your soul.
—Richard Jackson, closing lines to “Sonata of Love’s History,” Heartwall<?i> (University of Massachusetts Press, 2000)”
― Heartwall
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