Issue 109

Memories—so many people say, “You’ll always have your memories.” But even though my son died almost three years ago, memories of him are almost entirely painful. They are not Wordsworthian “recollections in tranquility,” but sharp stabbing pains that arise out of nowhere.

The absence of growth / a prayer I hold onto and it seems strange / to want something inside to die this much

a dream that repeated: to find the good / you must uproot the pain

Brother Baptiste once asked, How do I fit into my body? Brother Javier survived the plague.

every morning / the choice. How much. / Whether or not to. / And always the same / decision made

I came to see the ark in this space as a kind of well at the heart of an imaginary landscape, the symbolic source of life. This metaphoric landscape is a constant reminder of the longing for the physical Holy Land.

My mother used to tell me to talk without using my hands…. People will think you’re something you’re not, she said.

I want to know the names / of those who make reservoirs / of their own bodies.

An artist’s role is to awaken all senses so that we are truly alive and active… Physical connection, especially in the performing arts, is essential for creation.

But, if you didn’t notice, there is the cross: / the cross that includes everything as it / excludes nothing