they pulled my hair at charm school.
they
stole my guestbook during
rolecall.
this is burned in my brain. books, part one + MAY 3. 2003 = 117
duras. in her book writing. the house with the windows open to the sea. it is always dusk & she is always alone type type typing. the wind, the sea, the open windows, the desk. no Yan. no Lover. the drinks poured . one after another, or perhaps, straight from the bottle. the empty house, the drinks at hand, the quiet telephone. in lines of prose she revisits the crossing of the
mekong, the gold lame shoes, the brothers fighting. and the windows letting in the dusk. the dusk. the dusk.
prev/next
class
notes, file of pom-pom
ghosts!
