If sadness is akin to patience, we're back! Pattern recognition was our first response to loneliness. Here and there were like one place. But we need to triangulate, find someone to show. * There's a jolt, quasi-electric, when one of our myths reverts to abstraction. Now we all know every name's Eurydice, briefly returned from blankness and the way back won't bear scrutiny. High voices over rapid-pulsing synthesizers intone, "without you" -- which is soothing. We prefer meta-significance: the way the clouds exchange white scraps in glory. No more wishes. No more bungalows behind car-washes painted the color of swimming pools
Rae Armantrout - 1947-
What if I were turned on by seemingly innocent words such as "scumble," "pinky," or "extrapolate?" What if I maneuvered conversation in the hope that others would pronounce these words? Perhaps the excitement would come from the way the other person touched them lightly and carelessly with his tongue. What if "of" were such a hot button? "Scumble of bushes." What if there were a hidden pleasure in calling one thing by another’s name?