and tired, be.

The tree again.

In this view,
this particular angle, we see,
even if we do not have to
look closely. we


It is not about the tree itself.
it is not about the 1,000 sharp angles,
nor heavy & Bleeding

It is not about how it

{ so very & tired }

reaches for us, to pull,
& spread our arms out wide in another dying sun–

We stand tired in the parlour again,
you & i,
& below is that tree.

it is not about the snow,
as dirty as it { we see } may be.

We are drawn to that which has been cast.

the shadows are no longer just shadows,

we are no longer
the places where the Nights unsee.

Ghosts that dance in a bent circle.

{ hands & }

a Brambled star to wear
at the end of all things.

a Poet told us once that we used to be trees,
& i am

{ we are }

fairly certain
that Sidhe was right.

…who will that tree
{ & tired } be?

image credit Caitlín R Kiernan

Nenhuma história tem começo e nenhuma história tem fim. Começos e fins podem ser entendidos como algo que serve a um propósito, a uma intenção momentânea e provisória, mas são, em sua natureza fundamental, arbitrários e existem apenas como uma ideia conveniente na mente humana. As vidas são confusas e, quando começamos a relacioná-las, ou se relacionar parte delas, não podemos mais discernir os momentos precisos e objetivos de quando certo evento começou. Todos os começos são arbitrários.
—  A Menina Submersa.

Some queer reads out in the past 30 days: Blood Oranges by Kathleen Tierney; Queering Anarchism edited by C. B. Daring, J. Rogue, Deric Shannon, and Abbey Volcano; Pantomime by Laura Lam; What’s Wrong With Homosexuality? by John Corvino; The Sin-Eater’s Confession by Ilsa K Bick; The Summer Prince by Alaya Dawn Johnson; and 7 Miles a Second by David Wojnarowicz, James Romberger, & Marguerite Van Cook.

É um mito que pessoas loucas não saibam que são loucas. Sem dúvidas muitos de nós somos capazes de epifanias e introspecção como qualquer outra pessoa, talvez até mais. Suspeito que passamos muito mais tempo pensando sobre nossos pensamentos do que as pessoas sãs.
—  A Menina Submersa
Two nights before Halloween, as if it matters to anyone in the house, as if every day in this house isn’t Halloween. As if every moment they live isn’t the strain and stretch, the hand reaching back, groping through bottomless candy bags down to where front porches glow with orange flicker grins and skeletons dance hopscotch sidewalks and ring doorbells. And they are all here, here around her where they belong.

Silk, By Caitlin R. Kiernan

This is a perfect example of why I wanted to reread the book: that gorgeous language. But there’s a price: that dreamlike, sticks-under-your-skin language is also used to give glimpses of horrible things unfurling themselves from the shadows, from sealed jars and glass tanks, nightmare things with too many legs and eyes.

Yes, I foolishly reread Silk. And now I’m going to keep reciting that opening paragraph above, because it’s a moment of flickering candlelit calm before the terrors creep in.

Does anyone know where to get Caitlin Kiernan's book Alabaster?

It seems like it’s out-of-print, but I really want to read it. I started the Alabaster: Wolves comics today, and I’m so intrigued by the character of Dancy, as well as the dark angel that follows her around. I’m fascinated by dark stories based around Biblical mythology, and I want to read more of Dancy Flammarion’s story. So does anyone know if Alabaster is still in print and where I can find it? I don’t particularly want to go to eBay, but anywhere else would be fine if the price is cheap.

“It is not the task of a writer to ‘tell all,’ or even to decide what to leave in, but to decide what to leave out. Whatever remains, that meager sum of this profane division, that’s the bastard chimer we call a 'story.’ I am not building, but cutting away. And all stories, whether advertised as truth or admitted falsehoods, are fictions, cleft from the objective facts by the aforementioned action of cutting away. A pound of flesh. A pile of sawdust. Discarded chips of Carrara marble. And what’s left over.”

-Excerpt taken from Caitlin R. Kiernan’s 'House Under The Sea’

“I can hardly draw off my own experiences as a heroin addict, having only shot up that once and all. It’s not that I dislike needles. And smack really is better by a hundred times than the best sex you’ve ever had. It’s just I was meant for greater things, like growing old and bitter and more properly wicked.”

- Caitlin Kiernan