World

There’s no generalisation. Only specifics. The world is what the world is. A surface, an eternal surface: a psychic geography, a lovers makom, a geopolitical network of religious city states. There’s banality, there’s loss, there’s desperation, there’s reprieve, there’s love.

I walk the surface of the world: and, speaking personally, I’ve got a heart full of love for the world of hatred and, speaking personally, I’ve got a brain full of love letters for the world of hatred and, speaking personally, I’ve got a body full of desire for the vestiginal makoms of the goddess.

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