dreams collapsing into each tiny decision
i understood community. going to the place and standing around. aiming for connections to bodies, language and the future. i could be an artist. i had the tools. it wasn’t politics. not that i knew. it was nothing. it was boredom, turned electric. music from cars. it was watching. watching the scene……. the material of poems is energy itself, not even language. words come later. eventually i stood, a big human, the day spinning all around me.
-Inferno, Eileen Myles
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