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“I will never be the same again – it was absolutely explosive, vital, soul-shattering.”
— Sylvia Plath, from a letter to Philip E. McCurdy written c. April 1954
12.21
Huevembers (2018) No.19, 20, 21 ー Fuir
let me be the wallpaper that papers up your room
Getting back is harder than I thought, but I made the space around me pretty.
Galia Lahav Spring ‘17 Couture
I’m tired of the way love turns us into animals.
I’m tired of roaring. I’m tired of you tearing
my flesh with your teeth, stalking me like prey
in the shower, lunging and growling; I’m tired
of pawing, and panting, and hunting
and wagging. Of course at first it was thrilling. The we
have no words for this. The we are just
our bodies. But look at my cortex. Look
at my opposable thumbs. I want out
of this stew, I want to use tools, I want to develop
agriculture and walk upright towards you through
this field of corn that we planted, on purpose, because
we were hungry, and human, and knew
exactly what we were doing.
I’m tired of roaring. I’m tired of you tearing
my flesh with your teeth, stalking me like prey
in the shower, lunging and growling; I’m tired
of pawing, and panting, and hunting
and wagging. Of course at first it was thrilling. The we
have no words for this. The we are just
our bodies. But look at my cortex. Look
at my opposable thumbs. I want out
of this stew, I want to use tools, I want to develop
agriculture and walk upright towards you through
this field of corn that we planted, on purpose, because
we were hungry, and human, and knew
exactly what we were doing.
“Neolithic Revolution,” Ali Shapiro
fragmentation, metamorphosis