in literature
from the poem by adrienne rich:
the thing I came for:
the wreck and not the story of the wreck
the thing itself and not the myth
i have thought of it many times
during these two months
of the wreck this journal project
and dismissed any connection
between this project and the poem
(thinking the project somehow 'less',
the poem being as extraordinary as it is...)
yet perhaps it isn't so farfetched
to think this exploration
as significant:
seeking something of myself.
and discovering?
still uncertain
exactly what.
the last of the pages -
i've decided that the journal
will be complete -
in whatever state -
at the end of the month
the poem can be read (or listened to, anne waldman reading) here
the pencil rubbing was done with this milagro studded
watermelon
i had high hopes.
alas
