Not really any poems today, just a bunch of thoughts and some excerpts.

“Loving”, Jane Stembridge

This is a short little one.

From Anne Carson:
As members of human society, perhaps the most difficult task we face daily is that of touching one another–whether the touch is physical, moral, emotional or imaginary. Contact is crisis. I really like this. Contact is crisis. We ought to crise more often. contact contact contact contact (as in Definition Study).

From Sara Levasseur:
My entire self-aware, socialized existence had been lived as if I were my own voyeur–as if I were constantly catering to the spectator’s perspective. It’s really really hard to break from this. God knows I’ve been doing this in some form for the longest time, and am trying to exorcise it. This is also probably why I am so against what I’d call performatism. But how scary, when even the genuineness is in part voyeuristic. Can we really detach from that sense at all?

From the paintings-with-words account, a painting of a girl looking out some sort of window at night, and: For all this lack there is only a hope to fill. / I turn nothing into something, …. This first line aligns well with my idea that we are all coping in one form or another, and to cope is to simply hope for hope, and what an odd thing that makes it.

No sound without silence.
No silence without sound.
The former is the title of an album by The Script. Which now that I think about it, is a strange thing to name a band.