“That feature s its woven structure.” (Cixous from Neutre)
Story mom swan: mom trying to hatch a way to support us after my dad on Christmas in1985.
Antique shops with two antique malls—the Sherman Oaks Antique Mall and cranberry House. But we had our own store, King’s Cross. The walls were painted with metal gold paint and oxblood paint with gold fleur de les. It was super toxic. We opened the day of the big earthquake. Everything glass broke. It was a mess. There was a small plastic Christ outside the store on the ground. He was wearing a red and white robe. We opened the store. We weirdly made sales.
“Dear Sassafrasss, Of course you can come home! What do you think you could do to yourself that I wouldn’t love my girl? I believe in you and I could go into some kind of business…maybe go into some kind of business. Maybe, have some kind of boutique with your weavings that hang and mine that serve a useful purpose (smile).
“Even if Jesus will never be a swan. Horror.
“The lady in blue. The ladies first to each other,then gradually to the audience. After the song peaks, the ladies enter I to a closed tight circle.
Lady in brown, and this is for colored girls who have considered suicide/but are moving to the ends of their own rainbows.”(Shange).
Rainbows. When my other found out I was gay; she said “I would rather take you out into a field and shoot you in the head than you be gay.”
Once in our store, I made out with my big dyke girlfriend in the front window on a white iron garden lounge chair.
“This book was born, child, eldest of all my books, living rising me from all my ashes, from Pompeii to Orleansville, from Ornasbruck to Chile. It relinks—it rereads—literally, its poetic parents, mingled song that it is, made up Geologicals recited in voices of Kleist or Klee or Jensen. The subject, the heroine, always comes back after a long parting in death or oblivion, whether she is her or him self, Gradiva, Eve, or me, or Josepha. Sending my sheddings. Its strring kin back into the world.” (Cixous from Neutre).