I have no mouth and I must scream

A flower made of thin bone, red feathers, blood and meat. Then the dreams last night, a white cat with one blue eye and one green eye, roadkill, splattered across the pavement. Red birds and white cats, and I was the one who shot the bird, I was the one who killed the cat. And I don't know why.

Am I human, or only a monster?

These are tired thoughts. But today I am tired, and I am thirsty, and I am old. Today I am not well.

Strange to no longer desire one's desires. Strange
to see meanings that clung together once, floating away
in every direction. And being dead is hard work
and full of retrieval before one can gradually feel
a trace of eternity. -- Though the living are wrong to believe
in the too-sharp distinctions which they themselves have created.
Angels (they say) don't know whether it is the living
they are moving among, or the dead. 


Rainer Maria Rilke, die erste Elegie.

ultimas palabras

Intrinsic reality is that which lies beneath the illusion. All in one moment I saw the snow drifting down from the sky and the angles of the trees and I knew what god was. And later, when he and I lay beneath the blankets on that winter night, we did not need to speak to know each other. There was no separation. His body was my body and my body was his, and I was also the cold room we lay in, and the snow falling and the sleeping trees outside, I was the universe and the universe was never anything but me.

And so when he said to me a few nights ago, I'm going to save you, I wanted to say to him that he didn't understand. There can be no blasphemy. There is no separation from god. We are god's thoughts.