The first line of this is actually taken from another poem I wrote and scrapped almost a decade ago; I kept returning to the idea of language-making at the end of the world/life. So much of my work is about wandering, longing, poetry as defense, escape, record-keeping, questioning, etc. Here though, it’s also about the use of language even when it fails our intentions. When I reread this poem, I see how much of it is about the act of writing, even more than the act of living.
A.D. Lauren-Abunassar on Something I Wrote Down |
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