#lisaolstein

[thevulgar]

FROM THIS VANTAGE POINT YOUR VIEW WILL BE CLEAR | Lisa Olstein

Any shift in philosophy introduces the need for new habits of the body. I am learning how gently to lift them, to turn them swiftly and rest them again, on their wings, wings to table, which I say sand smooth each morning. To do it with  no fluttering, with as little as possible. It is a strange gymnastics, their bodies, mine: what to grasp, when to release, the nature of a turn, the will of the whole channeled into the fingertips. It takes all my strength. It is necessary to practice, to imagine myself the moth, my arms its wings, my legs gone. 

[thevulgar]

FROM THIS VANTAGE POINT YOUR VIEW WILL BE CLEAR | Lisa Olstein

Any shift in philosophy introduces the need for new habits of the body. I am learning how gently to lift them, to turn them swiftly and rest them again, on their wings, wings to table, which I sand smooth each morning. To do it with no fluttering, with as little as possible. It is a strange gymnastics, their bodies, mine: what to grasp, when to release, the nature of a turn, the will of the whole channeled into the fingertips. It takes all my strength. It is necessary to practice, to imagine myself the moth, my arms its wings, my legs gone.

[thevulgar]

ANY SUCH BOLD CLAIM | Lisa Olstein

We are ringed by hills. I’ve taken to burying almost anything that dies— spiders, mice, birds I find in the road. This goes against local custom; here they burn. I question what I eat. How death makes it possible, but not dead long. Not too newly, either. There is no beauty in this, which is what draws me. I expect certain things to correct themselves, but sheep remain dumb in bickering light. Whatever part of this can be gotten rid of, I want gone. Whatever part must be taken, taken inside.

[themapleleaves]

Nothing likes to be abandoned, / no one likes to be compared. / There is a point when the plan / lifts from our control panels / and shimmers while we go ahead / and stare. How long do we / call the plan the plan after it / disappears?

Lisa Olstein's "Space Junk"