Wheresoe’er I turn my view,
All is strange, yet nothing new;
Endless labour all along,
Endless labour to be wrong;
Phrase that Time has flung away,
Uncouth words in disarray:
Trickt in antique ruff and bonnet,
Ode and elegy and sonnet.
“It was only when we were in that bed, high above the world — then I thought the birds could have been circling around our bodies circled around each other — that we made our world totally separated from everything else. It was the only way we could be together.”
Kathy Acker