Like Ulysses wife, unstitching every night, we
disconnect our threaded lives, uncouple them
as if connection were the worst disgrace we could
conceive, as if to “find ourselves” meant that we
must snip our piece from out the common cloth, cut
loose the scrap that is our point of view; (and
find out the hole that’s left reveals much more of us
than could any scrap!) Consumed with severance, breaking
threads that bind us to the ground, to beasts, and to
each other -- crazed spiders, trying to un-web ourselves
whenever we see dangers tremble on the farthest
strands; believing in the center, we deny
the edge that clings to every other thing, forget
the essence of the web is to cling, to bind.
Denying that what we bring forth is all we have
to anchor with. How quick we fray,
once our tiny patch is cut adrift!
words: Catherine McGuire, Oregon (website)
"Disconnect" was first published in NeoVictorian/Cochlea, 2004
image: 'patterns of Lisbon', Steve Wing, Florida (about & more)
to follow the 'patterns of Lisbon'
try this Núcleo Arqueológico moment