Adrienne Rich — Itinerary

i. Burnt by lightning nevertheless she’ll walk this terra infinita lashes singed on her third eye searching definite shadows for an indefinite future Old shed-boards beaten silvery hang askew as sheltering some delicate indefensible existence Long grasses shiver in a vanished doorway’s draft a place of origins as yet unclosured and unclaimed Writing cursive instructions on abounding air If you arrive with ripe pears, bring a sharpened knife Bring cyanide with the honeycomb call before you come ii. Let the face of the bay be violet black the tumbled torn kelp necklaces strewn alongshore Stealthily over time arrives the chokehold stifling ocean’s guttural chorales a tangle of tattered plastic rags iii. In a physical world the great poverty would be to live insensate shuttered against the fresh slash of urine on a wall low-tidal rumor of a river’s yellowed mouth a tumor-ridden face asleep on a subway train What would it mean to not possess a permeable skin explicit veil to wander in iv. A cracked shell crumbles. Sun moon and salt dissect the faint last grains An electrical impulse zings out ricochets in meta-galactic orbits a streak of nervous energy rejoins the crucible where origins and endings meld There was this honey-laden question mark this thread extracted from the open throat of existence—Lick it clean! —let it evaporate—