You're our kind of friends.
"My ex-husband doesn't provide support.
Could he get custody of our children if I die?"
(Set and setting)
Certain books get peeled away from the surface
layer, lie buried in the sediments of trivial
Seized with remorse for the lost collages (yet
they were certainly no further than a few
footsteps away in a drawer or closet) (closet/
closest) I refrained from my usual mad
rushing around to find them, along with
the glue, some cardboard, or a few cotton
swabs; long ago I had resigned myself to
the sheer magnitude if their contents, magnified
tremendously, I'm sure, by their
sly shyness, their deadpan,
unreasoning will to exist in their
own world. Why did I long to touch them
anyway? The answer is simple: the need
for ritual. There is no doubt that the
dada/surrealists proved more than once that
no more than two words are required to
create a whole new world. And some
would argue that one or no words are
required. And I salute their loyal
displacements! And am still charmed by
Georges Hugnet ("disparu reve")
The distance between reality and
illusion is an eyelid.
1. pertaining to Aeolus, the god of the