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The Four of Swords

Posted on 2004.05.03 at 12:18
Perhaps I was supposed to learn something here. Something about being a hermit in the smoke-branched mountains, something about the anchorite chained to a stone wall. Perhaps I was supposed to lie down on the slab and press my pilgrim's palms together, exalted by a heavenward gaze, and hold a green-cowled moon between my thighs until I was released. The four of swords, blades all round, resting in a mausoleum with hyssop and yarrow on my stomach, and gardenias to swallow up the smell of death.

I think I was supposed to sit in a tree and empty my mind like a glass pitcher. I think I was supposed to go down into the grass, and know the roots by their Christian names.

IfI had memorized the hiragana of my palm-lines, and affixed my tongue to my eyelids, to taste the absence of color, I might have taken from this place a kind of gangrenous peace.

I was supposed to learn something here, something about how to bear this domesticated void within me, and not hear the howl of wind thorugh my lightless womb.

Comments:


Tony Grist
poliphilo at 2004-05-03 02:40 (UTC) (Link)
I love coming across new words. Hiragana? Is it Japanese? Please explain
Inca Mummy Girl
darkest_peru at 2004-05-03 06:38 (UTC) (Link)
Yes, it's one of the written systems used by Japanese--the one with squiggly lines.

I don't have time to explain it. Just read more.
canonfire at 2004-05-03 03:10 (UTC) (Link)
Wonderful! It does surprise me that our writing styles are so similar.
Inca Mummy Girl
darkest_peru at 2004-05-03 06:39 (UTC) (Link)
Are they? You've never really given me anything of length to read, prose-wise.
Jill Knapp's Other Boyfriend
shellefly at 2004-05-03 06:58 (UTC) (Link)
Palm lines written in the native script of a foreign culture. Whose hands are these really? Whose hands have they become?
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