pan gonkai & chen chen
How I Became Sagacious
The day the window grew till it no longer fit the house was the night I decided to leave. I carried in my snake mouth a boxful of carnal autobiographies. I went in search of a face without theory. The window went on to sing a throb of deer melody. The shape, the day of my belly sobbed with the outline of a deer. The clouds were a mouth-shaped poison, & ready. I saw violence in anything with a face. I wished for a place big enough for grief, & all I got was more grief, plus People magazine. There were some inside things I was going to make outside things, just for one person in a godless living room, full of passé plants. Now what? So blah & bewildered, my hands have turned out to be no bee, lall bumble, unable to tell the difference between the floor & the ground. They feel dirt, but it feels like something they made.