"It's about words, and words are all I have…"

*the only beings whose life is irremediably and achingly linked to happiness

all happy families are alike; each unhappy family is

unhappy in its own way   so said leo tolstoy  in anna k


happiness   shiny   rosy   boring   fleeting

were we one?   yes   as long as we kept

our parent’s demons in separate rooms


our brother’s outsized wound   revisited on

the son  who has 2 sons  +will be searching

for his father in their eyes  under beds  on giant

waves  which do not wash away  the original sin


we were never boring!  ignoring all the signs that

one day we’d be pressed together in hallways  fathers

dying on gurneys   but also in dining rooms going through

motions   we think:  this is what happy families do


but the porch light is out  maybe we’re in the wrong house

who are these happyfuckers who vaguely resemble me?  


we are a richly textured  unhappyfamily   who once went on a

holiday  and a small turd floated above a swimming brother

on lake nipissing




Fall 2019

*(Giorgio Agamben, Moyen sans fins)

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