#376 The Explanation (2)

Father is discarded, is
dying, may even be
already dead. Freud
sits at the prestige table
offering up thanks to
Sophocles, thinking
that without the help
of Oedipus Tyrannus,
he may not have even
managed to get a seat
at the table nearest to
the kitchen. Mother
has another drink, says
to her son: "Now I have
the carrot & the stick in
one." Son: "In vino veri-
tas. Fuck you, Mother."

#375 The perfume of the abyss

                                         Incorrect to talk of the 
                      food chain as if it were 
                               a single entity. Absence 
                                      blots people out. Others 
                          emerge, elements of a
                               sense of guilt that is
                   sometimes offered up 
                                       as a straight radiant, 
                         sometimes as the center-
                                   piece of a vesica piscis, 
                      the fish's bladder favored 
                                 by some religions. The
                         abyss is redolent of each
                                  & every aspect — or
                               would be if someone were 
                                       there to be aware of them.

#374 The Roof of the World

I am lost, though the street signs tell me I'm at the corner of Main & Forthright. This is a part of—uptown? downtown? out of town?—I do not recognize. There is traffic on the roadway, people walking there, bodies decorated with model cars that encase their waists, obeying the traffic directions, the lights, the speed signs. There is a separate lane for pedal cars. The sidewalks are paved with astroturf.