“As members of human society, perhaps the most difficult task we face daily is that of touching one another–whether the touch is physical, moral, emotional, or imaginary. Contact is crisis. As the anthropologists say, “Every touch is a modified blow.” The difficulty presented by any instance of contact is that of violating a fixed boundary, transgressing a closed category where one does not belong.”
—
Anne Carson, from “Putting Her in Her Place: Women, Dirt, and Desire,” in Before Sexuality: The Construction of Erotic Experience in the Ancient Greek
i’m not sure i’m capable of being loved right now / i feel safe in my quiet way of living and telling my secrets to thread & paper / i don’t know what i’d say if you asked me to know myself / more
“again it is raining, raining. all week i dream i got what i want. the growing and the need, falling fast on my face. falling fast on me. when you become mine, do you change into me?”
— Kathy Jiang, from “koi dream in rain,” Up the Staircase Quarterly (no. 61, 2023)
line from a poem i started some time during august & never finished
[Image ID: a black and white typography edit that reads “im half cowboy, half tragedy.” below the text is the silhouette of a rider mounting their horse. the entire picture is textured to look aged and photocopied. /End ID]
