Night was and they swayed into it:
a pair of scissors, of sails
turning only into themselves
more other than become.
It is often five o’clock.
Her husband has contracted not
to speak of her and she has forgotten
where to go. Where does everyone go?
-- Lavinia Greenlaw
2 comments:
Oooof. Still crazy, after all these years.
Beautiful and sad. But with possibilities for hope. Where does one everyone go? I think we decide. I am trying not to limit myself with the weight of old sadness and regret. If I can say I did the best I could with what I knew at the time. That's enough. I'm trying to step into the Beckett quote, "Ever tried. Ever failed. No matter. Try again. Fail again. Fail better."
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