I wrote this poem because I still am trying to figure out what a couple means. How intimacy and blame operate. The causality of our decisions. What love can and can't overcome in the face of a simultaneous end. My friend, a prominent queer scholar, said the Beckett line over dinner, real casually, as if this is something everyone should know. I couldn't stop thinking about it.
Megan Fernandes on "Dinner with Jack" |
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Hanif Abdurraqib on Grief, Music, and Living with Loss
"Memory is tricky. A few years ago I realized I could not remember the sound of my mother's voice anymore. My dear friend Tyler, who we lost when I was in my early twenties, I don't remember what his laugh sounds like anymore. And there is no song that can refurnish the sonics of their living. But there are songs that can act as a kind of silent film of their life. And that serves a purpose. I hesitate to say it's helpful, but it's certainly not detrimental to the process."
via NPR |
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What Sparks Poetry:
Dong Li on Evan S. Connell's Notes From a Bottle Found on the Beach at Carmel
"Vestigial shards of old legend and lore dart in and out of vertiginous fragments of human folly and futility, now like lightning on a clear day, now like fireflies on a talkative night. The 'I' slyly travails through historical significance and triviality until the tribulations of fear, faith, and ferocity surface in a dizzying dream state, hauling history into the prophetic present, where associative meanings are distilled into a crude and cruel illumination." |
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