Member-only story
I have to project myself into the infinite space after my death and only then ask what is that I want to write and only then can I carry back with me the germ of what a poem can be today
you encounter a defense: the world (your inner world) spins back speaks relentlessly against the possibility of further speech rejecting and as it were: annihilating it
for so long or not so long or indefinitely you’ve been trying to desperately to preserve your past self while cultivating a future self worthy of the name (and the two forces pull you a part)
so go on: go further: core yourself like an apple see what the seeds produce in the raw earth (let them be)
