Wicked Claw

Wax And Stones

Did I want to be a saint so I could be plaster or stone and untouchable? That must be part of it. It’s rarer and rarer to find those old stone saints in Catholic churches anymore, holed up in their grottoes, tranquil expressions on their glossy faces, feet lit with the red votive candles of the adoring. I think that is part of the impulse in every child who wants to grow up to be a saint. I know its in me, the idea that as I progress in holiness I’ll rise above it all. Not be touched by what other people are touched by, not be plagued by… being a human being.

But the church walls tell a different story. The stations of the Cross tell of a mother weeping for her son, of a deposition: a dead body peeled off of a cross and saints wailing, of a man spiked to wood, side opened. The icons tell of hearts on fire, hearts exposed, hearts pierced with seven swords. Heads, the seat of all reason, chopped off with swords, the bodies we glory in shot through with arrows. It becomes clear, if we let it be clear, that sanctity is all about exposing ourselves to the full risk of being alive. Not about stone virgins, but hearts of flesh.

It is much harder to be a flesh virgin than a stone one.

The truth is charity at a distance is easy, but love is dizzying. It is terrible to love someone else. I know that now. Now when I love someone I try to tear apart every word they say, try to make myself un-love them. It comes up again and again. I ask, going for visits, what do I fear? Why am I afraid? I am afraid of this love. All of my life I have been on guard and no one comes to far into my grotto. There is an army of burning votives at my feet to keep folks away. Kneel. Tell me your need. I will smile on you. Leave me to myself. But don’t cross the fire. Do not touch. Do not enter in. Do not turn me into flesh.

Flesh feels and yearns and weeps and, in the end, rots. Stone is strong and enduring.

But only flesh is alive.

eleven at night

I've started reading again, reading novels I mean. I'm reading Zeitgeist, this amazing, thick and pretty much out of print weird ass book that came out a few years back. I'm getting Ben sort of turned onto it. It's the weird sort of out of the establishment writing that i admire and do. I want to make a sort of midwestern outpost for this type of different work.

I've been watching so much television and film. I think... this is what I want my work to be like. I want to recapture in words the scenes I see in cinema and televison. i want to write like a movie or like a poem...

or like a freakshow.

Witch's Blood

i'm growing used to you now
i dreamed fo what it would be like to have you
but this is beyond my dullest dreams
after the longing and the pursuit
learning to live with that i've caught
the first step is to chase and not to run
away
the second step in evolution
is the motion of the paw across the throat
the spurt of blood
adam crawls out of the mud
not an animal
and we are adam's children
we have to learn the next step
the next step is to live with what
we've caught
and i've caught love

I think learning to love someone is very boring. That's why we don't do it sometimes. The excitement is wonderful when it starts. The excitements gets you there. But the actual love can be so daily. You have to pull back and look at it, realize it is what it is: love.

lips like heaven
paul saw seven
but your place is the eighth
faith in your thighs
love in your mouth
charity
the rarity of the roundness
of your secret hills
will--to ride the night
like a jockey in a derby
the whole night is the derby
and your are the most magnificent
--no not a steed
need turns lies to words
riding you,
being ridden
is like the fire or the wind
like being born again