Conversations with Ghosts

This is where I write in response, following the moments I encounter ghosts. Every book, artwork, gallery floor, landscape, every sentence typed…carries the imprint of another being, their thoughts, their memory, their words, their paint, their fleshy fingers. Often I find I cannot write because the topic of yesterday’s reading is no longer interesting to my AuDHD brain, I’ve latched on to a more recent thought or idea. SO this is where I write with: the thing I'm reading now. The work I saw today. The phrase someone said that won't stop circling. Each entry is a trace of that meeting, between the living and their hauntings. Typos will be had. Errors made. Revisions necessary.

Fragment by fragment, ghost by ghost.  I encounter them and something moves between us, a conversation that started before I arrived.

Chimera Singer Chimera Singer

Clarice Lispector + Susan Stryker

NO. 02

Talking Monsters.

 

No. 02

A conversation with Clarice Lispector via Agua Viva and Susan Stryker…with a touch of Mckenzie Wark.


 
 

I don’t like gender. It doesn’t feel exploratory. To be “read as ___” is boring, and falsely assumptive to me. It negates the work of learning and knowing another, it negates the necessity of curiosity. It assumes too much and does too much work that then inevitably is undone. Or if it is not it flattens and mimics. Maybe my mind will change. Most thoughts do. Or they mutate to be premised in meaninglessness. But i also need you to not need or expect me to change my mind. This is important.

Reading Stryker I wondered out loud whether monster was useful for us to identify with the Other as liberatory practice. Wark said of course. For some reason this made me angry. Stryker said it is like reclaiming whore or slut or gay. No it’s not. It’s not. Maybe it’s still useful to Be Monster, but it’s not the same. To be gay whore slut is only bad or wrong if the thing it describes is assumed bad or wrong. The terms themselves are not indicative of a description of “badness” itself. Monster - is. Monster reflects the subjective speaker. It does the work of communicating that which is harmful, ugly, and feared. It does not generate or prescribe specific actions or traits as whore slut gay do. Monster does the work of being flexible, to be specifically and exclusively defined by those who use it. Monster is the judgement itself, not the identity or practice that is judged.

I did not say any of this to her. Why would I when I wouldnt be heard. And Wark did not explain or change my mind. I was disappointed by this. I learned nothing. I changed my mind later. I changed my mind when I embraced the monster for myself because i didnt want the human described as human by those who use Monster. Which is almost exactly what Stryker said. id rather be the creature they feared. i would rather be the thing feared than the boundaried saltless human they want. To them, I am a monster and she is a monster. But, to me, so are you. And so the speaker of Monster is Monster. They just don’t know it yet. Which really means we are all human again too. It all is the same metaphor for the same creature. Mary tried to tell us.

Monster isn’t a slur to be reclaimed, it is diagnostic of the speaker, diagnostic of their prescription of “human.” But as with gender and race and most things, human and monster equally drift, shift, blur, glitch, slide, drip.


Boundarilessness is wordlessness.

Sometimes it’s hard to speak words when words mean everything and never nothing.

How can I speak when not all can hear and how can I gesture when not all can see and how can I touch when not all can feel and how can I whisper when you are so far and how can I shout when the wind snatches thought and how can i write when youre not there. And how can i share when i cannot feel. What is left to be said, communciated, shared when it is all and all everything and you already know anyway?

Like photoshop attempting to distinguish one pixel from the next to form an edge, a selection. How often it gets those pixels wrong. A corner of a nose blends with the skin of another’s stomach. Even when we tell it which pixels to look for a shirt rubs off on the moon. How can I gender when it’s boundariless and how can i race when it fictious except for how we live it in body against body atom against atom and so we speak in poems and riddles and metaphors and analogies and monsters and words. And so words become genders become races become types become categories become All of us monsters, but not all of us Narccissus. That is the secret. We are all monsters. But speaking to no one. But us.


 
 
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Etel Adnan

NO. 01

 

NO. 01

Poems from thoughts with her each morning for a month.


 
 

 

train

“one foot in the grave and the other in the coffin”

doors. are. closing.

doors. are. opening.

doors. are closing.


bird bite the breadcrumbs of tortoise shell silences

bread swells the nests

tortoise shell vases

lounge with weighted sighs

hoping for a branch

that is not olive

the olive tree swells with righteous indignation

it licks the skies their

branches stripped

ceramic bulged protrude

like dicks in pants

swelling at the prospect filling their molds

lick the edges of the fan with eyes

wished it were fingertips

lounging at the edge of tortoise shell laughter

tomorrow’s day swells as tortoise shell molding

shields my eyes from the whispers of another day tired

breadcrumbs of thoughts catch the fans gaze

they glatten against yesterday’s

unexfoliated skin


he turned the POS face toward me

filling the coffee to the brim

brimming with the false cheer not so false

in my coffee-throwing days

ceramics chirped loudly

the bar burring

piercing the throbbing hum

of pairs

pairs of shoes

pairs of grinders

pairs of eyes

pairs of ears

pairs pockets

pocket-dialing

3:03 is it too late in the day to drink coffee?


Etel Ednan said

[the] sea is a body

               is a world

                  is a house

                     is a hood

all i could think is a house in the hood

David Hammon’s lone hood

Black on the White wall. hung.

the Gugs didn’t pay Ashley enough


the candle smells like sage

i can’t find anywhere online


the cards told me to write a love poem to

i have not met you yet

i have smelled your fragments

edging the sea

dryness crusts its head outside by chest and flakes

to not be a stranger in a strange land

to touch the bones each year of the dead

someone else picks up the pencils on the way to the studio


the clothes piled yesterday tomorrow

today they half concealed the wet wipes

new underwear unopened

silent before the 66 the AC hummed


fingertips reak of the lemon ginger wings

made by hands carried by hands

plucked by hands

sheets carry the burden of the cat that always wanted more

“clay had memory” youtube echoed and she echoed as she

handed me her phone share her IG

ghosts everywhere


tomorrow again the day smelled like

todays cool summer AC

white t shirts scratched at the door of yesterday


the hardest thing to do is live just once

ghosts of our present pull us out

out of the body encounters


opie twitches nervously next to me

for once demanding nothing

he’s decided he only likes the porch

when i am there

even the birds don’t save his terror. i do though.

maybe fear recognizes fear

fear keeps us safe

his whiskers whisper warnings

car horns

cob webs

yellow lines

sans serif fonts

do too

the size of this morning only as long as the block

and the trash bags only as high as piled

i cannot remember his name but he looks up at me on the porch

my jadeite mug

he just rolled out, actually

today he wears a different blue than the bags

i don’t see that blue on this block

i see it in the tides when they slide away though


Ednan’s thoughts drip

like a faucet

i wear mine

on my sleeve.

drip.


i make J’s image most mornings

i take it Mark Sealy

i do take it. later, when i ask, i make it.

i make it out into the living from and to my nest

where i take J’s image

with paint this time


rosemary’s branches crack

i dont water you enough

tides flow in

but mostly out

its branches arch like the pines spilling the coast

where i was raised

where i raised

myself

i followed the gaze of the branches

turning heads toward salty air

the air whispered back

and bless me with memory

memory - the scents and sense of time


i ask her to pick up the cards for me

i gave mine to my mom

i lean too heavy on a house of cards sometimes

but i needed those cards

this time (where does that phrase come from?)

the river

the manta ray

the gazelle

the river was upside down

i trusted her hands to tug out the individual cosmos

the cosmos - winding paths, gathering pools, meets of cleanses and quenches


tide in

tide out

drip


all day tomorrow

i slept

dreams of today

regrets of yesterday


we regret to inform you

i regret to be informed

but

here we are


out for delivery

an oyster shell cradles the half burnt

half lit

candle matches

it used to smother weed butts in my studio

10 million years ago it shrouded an oyster

i didn’t realize it was a fossil until just now

chatgpt told me

the color of the fossil matches that of the mans shirt on the block


hands crack with

yesterday’s clay

stomach aches with a lifetime

of tomorrow


the impossibility of fireflies fossilize their

magical liturgies

some call it a dance

but that’s not quite right

they buzz without buzzing

alien ships like bouncing marfa lights up

and down

but, with more

tenderness

sliding in and out of darkness

their vernacular hums without humming

measured subtleties

the accent marks i forget the keyboard shortcut to

constellations, of course

but that’s too easy

haikus-ish


negative space

to dip hands into

the dips of the air around

my hips is to plunge


uneven wood under the same boxed wood on top of

our wet stained apple

box

its the stain and the uneven placement

all slightly off

perfect


pick up the table

on the sidewalk

it’s free!

on mars

“it’s always clear skies over there”

over here the table

heavy with words fallen clumsy mouths

wooden tongues lick the dust off

the legs


clay bowls bow because

the dust hold their memories

like cookies and cache


recycling is a myth.

brown paper and plastic boxes

tied up with string

wait to be crushed

cardboard air cardboard lines

with white lies and white lines

richly smothered

im too shy to breath cardboard air to ask the

uhaul hussle man how much

to wash

my car

need a van?

need a wash?

need a backbone?


 
 
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