tongues from the morgue
mortuary tongues

i came forward, claiming
"it was i, i do confess
who made this mess,
and i who cleaned the wound we made
in reason, with our bodies.
fucking, fucking lifeless
"cunts" and other stupid words we learn to swallow
like a seance for a scream we uttered once
and had forgotten.

we are women, women, yes
and men too, men
who were not afraid to sever - without flummox or distress
that little thing that made them man and, yes,
i have pulled with oxen, heaved
with queens in labour, birthed the beasts
that one day will undo the doings
of my tongue. our destiny
is banished from this land and we
are trapped here. separate
in our barren lands, we famish
and disguise ourselves
with lies about our living
and our dead celebrities.

touch me. i love being touched.

they say try it, try it. it's nothing less than a revolution of the senses.

back from far north qld.
back at law school for second semester. parties. old friends. timetable trouble.

these, i meant to post long ago:

19.5.05
went today to DJs toys. Sylvanian families, my little pony, mr men, smurfs
I was a child a child

Also, last day after exams, talking to odette about dark castle, old computer. Strange technology mythologies childhood.


Borges:

I am he who knows himself no less vain
than the vain looker-on who in the mirror
of glass and silence follows the reflection
or body (it’s the same thing) of his brother.
I am, my silent friends, the one who knows
there is no other pardon or revenge
than sheer oblivion. A god has granted
this odd solution to all human hates.
Despite my many wondrous wanderings,
I am the one who never has unraveled
the labyrinth of time, singular, plural,
grueling, strange, one’s own and everyone’s.
I am no one. I did not wield a sword
in battle. I am echo, emptiness, nothing.


Me:

i don’t know why i hold this shred of anonymity
like a scrap of fabric across my naked breasts

The text says what it does not say, yes
But the text also says what it says