1 Anything cancels everything out. If each point is a singularity, thrusting all else aside for good, “good” takes the form of a throng of empty chairs. Or it’s ants swarming a bone. 2 I’m afraid I don’t love my mother who’s dead though I once – what does “once” mean? – did love her . So who’ll meet me over yonder? I don’t recognize the place names. Or I do, but they come from televised wars.
Rae Armantrout - 1947-
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