Saturday, February 11
from LAND TO LIGHT ON V vi Light passes through me lightless, sound soundless, smoking nowhere, groaning with sudden birds. Paper dies, flesh melts, leaving stockings and their useless vanity in graves, bodies lie still across foolish borders. I'm going my way, going my way gleaning shade, burnt meridians, dropping carets, flung latitudes, inattention, screeching looks. I'm trying to put my tongue on dawns now, I'm busy licking dusk away, tracking deep twittering silences. You come to this, here's the marrow of it, not moving, not standing, it's too much to hold up, what I really want to say is, I don't want no fucking country, here or there and all the way back, I don't like it, none of it, easy as that. I'm giving up on land to light on, and why not, I can't perfect my own shadow, my violent sorrow, my individual wrists. (Dionne Brand)