primal poetry, poetry that allows us a taste for our inner destiny, is an adherence to the invisible.

maurice blanchot,
water and dreams.


i was texting with r. about the cool. she said the cool in school grew uncool after school and the uncool in school grew cool. i said the cool schoolers become businessmen and politicians. sometimes money artists and tenure scholars. i never did become cool, but i did become reflective, though a little self-absorbed.