January..2026..

Conceiving of this as a place to put my feet

• Put my hands there too
• To wear it on its face (it being many things)
• F*LL*NG *N L*V* M*K*S M* D*MB
• Laughing reading my journal entry about the Man Ray exhibit at the Met, how mad I was upon seeing it:
  • If you're a visual artist, don't try to be a writer!! Keep your work separate unless you're smart enough to write into it, simple as that. Have some boundaries. Have a sense of mystery. Have a sense for when to let the "dream of objects" speak for their goddamn selves! I actually feel like crying it makes me so mad.
  • The rest of the museum I was crying too, anytime there was a moment of silence or awe, sense of the expanse of time, moment of connection across and plugged into. Wooden carvings of saints scattered about a spacious room -- tears. Recreated tiled room, elegant patterns, muted palette -- tears. Or at the Episcopal church -- tears, kneeling, looking at Christ, there's a candle in front of him so the heat makes it look like he's moving, shimmering. Crying and praying for something, for suffering & for peace.
  • Death to explanation. Long live the painful mystery.
• Cool marble tile floors and a vision that coheres
• "It's a fine time to think it
  I’ve got other rhythms and rhyme, time to think it's made by you, made by me, what's the time I think it's a better time to sound it all out I must have found it all out before, before I saw you, before I met you, I think this time I might know more than before, this is the first time I feel I know it at all or all of it, too many people call, I feel I'm not a good poet, I'm half a poet, I lose my poethood, I don't compose knowing enough, I don't go far enough away, I'm too close to myself, I don't lose myself enough, I must free the language more, I free it too much, and now it's lost, lost to you and others too, I wing it, I wonder about it, I indulge in it, I listen to every word, I sing and I wonder every time, am I doing it wrong, I swim and I flounder, I go and I wander, I see but I go under, and when I am simple it's too simple for you and when I am......" - (more) Bernadette Mayer (obviously)